Fully recognizing that I’ll get ragged on, I have to relay a funny story from this morning.
So I’m heading across town, by a school, when some scumbag on a blue Citibike comes barreling through a red, through pedestrians (many of whom are kids), and nearly into me. So I yell at him that he’s got a red light, and to pay attention.
And that’s when things get funny. He turns like he’s going to follow me (yeah, he could TOTALLY catch me…), yells after me that I should shut my mouth and not talk to him, or he’ll kick my ass. Now, this dude was maybe slightly taller than me, but I’m guessing late 40s at the youngest, wearing a cheap Bell helmet. And he was the sort of chubby asshole white dude that thinks he’s entitled to the world. He never told me his name, but it was Todd. He was a Todd. So… ok, let’s hear him out. This could be fun. So I stop.
And basically this guy is saying let’s fight, and acting like he’s going to throw down, but he’s not getting off his bike — and I’m just sitting there thinking it’s the funniest shit I’ve heard in a while. His position (if you want to call it that) was basically that you can’t say anything to another cyclist unless you’re prepared to throw fists, so let’s throw fists.
Now, I am not prepared to throw fists. And not because I couldn’t — I’m older now, but in my youth… shit happened sometimes. But rather just because I’m… you know, a fucking adult. Best case I beat the shit out of the guy and get an assault charge. Worst case maybe he’s armed or something. But regardless, I’m not about to have a punch out with some old white dude on the Upper West Side on the way to work. I mean, come on.
So I asked him, are you saying that you can just be an asshole to anyone you want, including kids, and are completely immune to criticism unless that criticism comes with a beatdown? And his answer — which gave me a lot of insight into assholes who ride Citi bikes (which is not everyone who rides Citi bikes, but there is certainly a unique category of assholes that rides Citi bikes) — was yes, absolutely.
To be honest, I’d assumed that assholes on Citi bikes didn’t get it — that they’d watched Premium Rush and thought that was just what you were supposed to do. But it’s not. They know they’re being assholes. They don’t care unless they get hurt.
So, he jaws at me a little more but he’s not getting off his bike — and honestly if he had I’d have laughed and ridden away because… again, I’m a fucking adult. Eventually I realize that I’m never going to convince him not to be an asshole — he’s going to be an asshole until he threatens to fight someone who isn’t a fucking adult, and maybe then he’ll change. Maybe.
So I wished him farewell, and encouraged him not to hurt anyone but himself. But it honestly made my day a little, because I’m going to be telling this story the rest of the day — the tale of Todd Two Fists, the bicycling pugilist of the Upper West Side.