Aug
23
Picture this: I’m five foot two, and I wear glasses. The “Archie” comics teach that no one should ever hit a girl who wears glasses, let alone a petite one.
I was on my way home from a few too many drinks at Redbones, the oasis of beers and cycling sponsorship in Davis Square, when my friend and I happened to notice a fellow in a suit mumbling and sprawling boozily on the ground, with a girl nearby urging him to get up. I unlocked my bike and was intending to be on my way, but we speculated whether the extremely drunk gentleman we had seen would even begin to imagine that he could drive his car.
We circled the parking lot, and the next thing we saw was the idiot getting into the driver’s seat. Needless to say, a falling-down drunk should not drive! I was tipsy too, which probably emboldened me to step in. I pulled over and suggested that they get a cab.
I forgot that this is America, and you can’t anyone how to do anything, least of all if it involves their vehicle. The slobbering drunk proceeded to unleash a torrent of insults at me.
I wasn’t impressed with this aggressive dumbass’s attempts to trod me down, so as an inherent provocateur, I encouraged him to keep going with the fuckcockery until he could come up with something really good. He started in with the “bike gang” stuff, and even the “gay” hoopla, and then threatened to hit me. Me, girl in glasses! Well, come on, dude, do it! I’ll gladly see you go to jail.
My friend, to her credit, who is much taller than me and significantly more imposing, decided to step in before I found a way to cajole the pathetic drunk into making me have a whole bunch of unwanted appointments with my dentist. They didn’t get along too well either, unsurprisingly.
The final result? Said drunk spit forth another slew of words, his girlfriend seemed to suspect that she might want to drive home rather than him, and I wondered what the fuck I was doing, yet again trying to help right the world. Always a bad idea to get involved.
If a drunken fool gets behind the wheel, ideally, he would only kill himself. Unfortunately that’s not usually the case. I don’t want to be killed by such a fucking idiot, I don’t want anyone I know to suffer that fate, or anyone else – at all – period. But did we do any good? I don’t think so. We just got more hate.
So, readers, what would you have done? Patrick O’Grady, amazingly, has a bit of input about cyclists and punching.
Pleasantly, “The Heart of the Matter” is on television. Ah, Graham Greene. What would he make of my minor ethical scruples?
Oh yes - the license plate is 54S P57, Massachusetts plate.
Comments
Picture this: I’m five foot two, and I wear glasses. The “Archie” comics teach that no one should ever hit a girl who wears glasses, let alone a petite one.
As a similarly statued broad, every time some guy does something lame and macho or edges me off the road, I think, “Greeeat. If it makes you feel like a big guy to push me around, go riiight ahead.”
Then, I’d fill out a RMV driver complaint form.
call the cops…
all the cops jump all over reports of drunk drivers… at least from what it seems…
now, problem being you being intoxicated so you’d just have to leave it as reporting the person stumbling out of a bar, falling down, being helped into his driver seat so he could drive…
sounds pretty convincing for the black and white to show up asap…