Elderism #23

Totally bizarro coincidence: having, two days earlier, published an Op Ed in the New York Times about the guerilla tactics I employ when confronted by strangers’ bad manners, I was dumbstruck to witness the following. (You’ll definitely think I’m making it up, but I promise I am not.)

Around noon yesterday, I was walking on Mercer St. toward the N.Y.U. library when a bike messenger—who was riding on the sidewalk—swerved to avoid hitting a woman of a certain age (think Ruth Gordon, in a down parka.)

Woman of a Certain Age (to bike messenger): Fuck you!

Bike messenger: (Inaudible.)

W.O.C.A (to me): I’m gonna go after him if I see him again.

Me:  You should.

W.O.C.A: We’re evenly-matched: bicyclists are tippy, like old people.

Me:  You’re gonna need a cudgel or weapon, though.

W.O.C.A:  I’ll get a cane. And put it in his spokes. Or against his ass.