Clear the Runway

I strolled out onto the steel handrail of the Shinjuku footbridge just to watch the crowds scurry below like ants. Right in my path, the midday wind sent an abandoned red-and-white paper drinking straw rolling straight toward my boots. Think a stray tube is going to knock me off balance? I waited until it was an inch away, lifted my right foot, and pinned it flat against the painted metal bar with a clean, dull crunch. It stopped dead in its tracks. What, did you hold your breath thinking I'd slip over the edge? You crying?