"Mommy, am I famous yet?"
6/07/2007
Allergy Season
I was walking home from work today -- minding my own business, tastefully dressed, humming "Someone in a Tree" from Pacific Overtures -- when a wicked man rode up beside me on a bicycle.
"Daaaamn," he said. He was Hispanic and had an accent that was almost cartoonishly Speedy Gonzalez. Drawing his words out exaggeratedly, he yelled out to me, "That is one beeeaauuutiful lady!"
He leered at me, and I was irritated. I gave him the finger with both hands and said, "Fuck you. FUCK you."
I began to walk away, thinking that was that. But he continued to wheel his bike beside me.
"Fuck me? No," he said, grinning. "That's for your PUSSY. And your BUTT."
I walked faster and was a few yards ahead of him when suddenly his words hit me full force and I stopped, right there, in the middle of the sidewalk.
Not today, I thought.
I did an about-face and walked back to the man. Facing him dead-on, but avoiding his eyes, I began fishing purposefully through my purse.
"Ooh, you got a present for me?" he said mockingly.
To be honest, I wasn't even sure what I was searching for. I wanted to throw something at him, but what did I have? My keys? My glasses?
And then, in a flash, I knew. If he wants my body, I thought, well, then, that's what he'll get.
I continued to fish. This thing always takes me forever to find, but I knew it was in there (I never go anywhere without it), and I was in no hurry -- this guy wasn't going anywhere.
"Whatchoo lookin' for, honey?" he was sneering. "What you got for me?"
Finally my fingers closed around it. I pulled it carefully out of my purse: the Kleenex into which I'd been blowing my nose for the past three weeks. Allergy season is a bitch in New York.
Before he knew what was going on, I walked deliberately up to him and threw the snot-crusted Kleenex in his face.
"EW!" he screamed when he realized what it was, and I ran like hell.
I ran gleefully through the rush-hour crowd, but the guy's bike was faster. He whizzed past me, and as he disappeared down Seventh Avenue I heard him yell:
"You are one nasty lady! I was just joking!"
Then he was gone.
- posted by Frankie @ 7:34 PM
I was walking home from work today -- minding my own business, tastefully dressed, humming "Someone in a Tree" from Pacific Overtures -- when a wicked man rode up beside me on a bicycle.
"Daaaamn," he said. He was Hispanic and had an accent that was almost cartoonishly Speedy Gonzalez. Drawing his words out exaggeratedly, he yelled out to me, "That is one beeeaauuutiful lady!"
He leered at me, and I was irritated. I gave him the finger with both hands and said, "Fuck you. FUCK you."
I began to walk away, thinking that was that. But he continued to wheel his bike beside me.
"Fuck me? No," he said, grinning. "That's for your PUSSY. And your BUTT."
I walked faster and was a few yards ahead of him when suddenly his words hit me full force and I stopped, right there, in the middle of the sidewalk.
Not today, I thought.
I did an about-face and walked back to the man. Facing him dead-on, but avoiding his eyes, I began fishing purposefully through my purse.
"Ooh, you got a present for me?" he said mockingly.
To be honest, I wasn't even sure what I was searching for. I wanted to throw something at him, but what did I have? My keys? My glasses?
And then, in a flash, I knew. If he wants my body, I thought, well, then, that's what he'll get.
I continued to fish. This thing always takes me forever to find, but I knew it was in there (I never go anywhere without it), and I was in no hurry -- this guy wasn't going anywhere.
"Whatchoo lookin' for, honey?" he was sneering. "What you got for me?"
Finally my fingers closed around it. I pulled it carefully out of my purse: the Kleenex into which I'd been blowing my nose for the past three weeks. Allergy season is a bitch in New York.
Before he knew what was going on, I walked deliberately up to him and threw the snot-crusted Kleenex in his face.
"EW!" he screamed when he realized what it was, and I ran like hell.
I ran gleefully through the rush-hour crowd, but the guy's bike was faster. He whizzed past me, and as he disappeared down Seventh Avenue I heard him yell:
"You are one nasty lady! I was just joking!"
Then he was gone.
- posted by Frankie @ 7:34 PM
