As I walked across the parking lot leaving the gym this morning, still red-faced from my hour long sprinting session, a sloppy old man getting into the safety of his 1987 Impala, sang out a "Here Kitty Kitty.." at me from behind the smoking cigarette hanging from his mouth. It took me all of about 2 seconds to realize that there was no Garfield or Whiskers wandering around, and I found myself cringing.
He was talking to me.
Clearly this man is either too old to know the term "politically correct" or too redneck to even care.
Could be either, based on observation.
And then, strangely, this feeling of smugness comfortably settled in over me, and I strutted my sweaty ass back to my F350 and hoisted myself hawtly up into the truck.
He was talking to me.
I think that maybe if I was 20 years younger I would pretend to be shocked, angered, appalled and offended by it. I'm pretty sure I even friggin' marched in the Toronto streets once or twice to bring awareness to the sexual harassment issue, in my more 'political' days.
But, at this stage in the game, I'll take it.
3 comments:
You're a good sport... I would taken my socks off, rolled them up into a ball, thrown it towards him, "Come on geezer, get the ball! ruff ruff!" what a dick head... You are obviously more "grown up" than I am.
Ha! Don't know about 'grown up', Hiromi!....'starving for compliments perhaps'...? lol
Love this post - I am the same way these days. Lol.
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