The main aisle at the Trinity contest is a busy place, but that didn’t seem to matter. This guy came ambling along, tapping on the keyboard, walking slower and slower, until he just dropped to a dead stop(*) in the middle of the lane:
Everyone gave him plenty of clearance until he eventually rejoined consensus reality and moved on…
(*) There’s a song about that, but you’re gonna have to find it yourself.
The Smell of Molten Projects in the Morning 