GiorgioFurioso
on sabbatical
I was running some errands in San Francisco at lunch today and found myself approaching a red light northbound on 3rd Street just south of Market, and heard a fire truck rapidly approaching from behind. I pulled over to the far right and stopped right at the corner near the curb and checked my rear view.
Sure enough a fire truck was barreling down on my position, which in itself was not so bad, but then I realized that I was at the apex of the truck's turn if he needed to turn right on to Market. The imaginary headlines appeared in my mind's eye:"Totally sweet S2R1K DEMOLISHED by San Francisco Fire Truck. Crews still gathering pieces of the rider for DNA identification." Woe was me!
But being the quick-thinking Monster hooligan I have become (thanks to UBOB, DML, and Keigwin), I saw an easily accessible spot on the sidewalk directly in front of me. So I gently moved the bike the 4 feet on to the sidewalk, just off the curb, to allow the truck more room to turn, if that's what it had to do. BTW, there was a patrol car looking right at me when I went on the sidewalk, and I'm pretty certain the officers knew what I was doing and why, and had no problem with it.
Luckily the fire truck continued straight, and after it passed I gently backed off the sidewalk in to 3rd Street and was preparing to continue on my merry way when this woman walks in front of me to block my path, then screams "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
Now keep in mind, at that moment I was not on the sidewalk, so it was a little confusing. I assumed she was referring to the time I actually was on the sidewalk, so I calmly looked at her and replied, "I'm sorry, but I was just getting out of the way of that fire truck", and nodded in the trucks general direction.
To which she replied, with more screaming urgency, "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
So I point down at the ground, indicating how me, myself, and my bike were in fact quite fully off the sidewalk, and said, "You realize, I'm not actually ON the sidewalk, don't you?"
Even louder, "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
Hmm. Am I dealing with a rational person here? The mischievous monkey in me decided to explore the limits of her irrationality. I fully realize that, at that moment, it was an irrational decision on my part.
So I screamed back at her, "You're a real fucking bitch, aren't you?"
Louder, but a little hoarse, "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
Dumbfounded by her continued suggestion for me to go where I already was, I decided to up the ante. "You're a real fucking crazy bitch, aren't you?"
Not so loud, and much hoarser, "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
"Don't you have anything better to do than scream at passing motorcyclists?"
Hoarse, and now really in my face (visor was up), "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
Well, traffic had started to untangle itself from the cluster fuck caused by the fire truck, so things were starting to move, and I felt it was time to get out of there before the harpie kicked my carbon fiber front fender, which, much in the same way I can tell exactly when my cat is about to leap in to my lap, I could tell she was considering at that very moment. So I prepared to pull away, but felt the need to let her know one more time what I thought of here.
"You are a serious piece of fucked up fucking bitchiness all rolled in to one, aren't you?"
She paused, then, and I daresay I detected a glimmer of recognition in her eyes, as if she had only just then realized she was standing in the middle of a huge street, blocking traffic, and screaming nonsense.
She looked at me, carefully considering her next words. Then screamed louder and hoarser and more in my face than ever, "I hope you..."
But I didn't quite hear her last word very well, as it was being drowned out by the throaty growl of the air cooled 2-valve sultan-of-swinging-buffalo-meat throbbing between my legs as I rode off.
Yeah, I didn't quite hear it, but I think it was "Die".
So I continued on to Guitar Center on Van Ness to pick up my stuff, went back to work, making absolutely certain that I did not die along the way. Because if that had happened, man, wouldn't that have been embarrassing?
Sure enough a fire truck was barreling down on my position, which in itself was not so bad, but then I realized that I was at the apex of the truck's turn if he needed to turn right on to Market. The imaginary headlines appeared in my mind's eye:"Totally sweet S2R1K DEMOLISHED by San Francisco Fire Truck. Crews still gathering pieces of the rider for DNA identification." Woe was me!
But being the quick-thinking Monster hooligan I have become (thanks to UBOB, DML, and Keigwin), I saw an easily accessible spot on the sidewalk directly in front of me. So I gently moved the bike the 4 feet on to the sidewalk, just off the curb, to allow the truck more room to turn, if that's what it had to do. BTW, there was a patrol car looking right at me when I went on the sidewalk, and I'm pretty certain the officers knew what I was doing and why, and had no problem with it.
Luckily the fire truck continued straight, and after it passed I gently backed off the sidewalk in to 3rd Street and was preparing to continue on my merry way when this woman walks in front of me to block my path, then screams "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
Now keep in mind, at that moment I was not on the sidewalk, so it was a little confusing. I assumed she was referring to the time I actually was on the sidewalk, so I calmly looked at her and replied, "I'm sorry, but I was just getting out of the way of that fire truck", and nodded in the trucks general direction.
To which she replied, with more screaming urgency, "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
So I point down at the ground, indicating how me, myself, and my bike were in fact quite fully off the sidewalk, and said, "You realize, I'm not actually ON the sidewalk, don't you?"
Even louder, "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
Hmm. Am I dealing with a rational person here? The mischievous monkey in me decided to explore the limits of her irrationality. I fully realize that, at that moment, it was an irrational decision on my part.
So I screamed back at her, "You're a real fucking bitch, aren't you?"
Louder, but a little hoarse, "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
Dumbfounded by her continued suggestion for me to go where I already was, I decided to up the ante. "You're a real fucking crazy bitch, aren't you?"
Not so loud, and much hoarser, "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
"Don't you have anything better to do than scream at passing motorcyclists?"
Hoarse, and now really in my face (visor was up), "Get Off The Fucking Sidewalk!"
Well, traffic had started to untangle itself from the cluster fuck caused by the fire truck, so things were starting to move, and I felt it was time to get out of there before the harpie kicked my carbon fiber front fender, which, much in the same way I can tell exactly when my cat is about to leap in to my lap, I could tell she was considering at that very moment. So I prepared to pull away, but felt the need to let her know one more time what I thought of here.
"You are a serious piece of fucked up fucking bitchiness all rolled in to one, aren't you?"
She paused, then, and I daresay I detected a glimmer of recognition in her eyes, as if she had only just then realized she was standing in the middle of a huge street, blocking traffic, and screaming nonsense.
She looked at me, carefully considering her next words. Then screamed louder and hoarser and more in my face than ever, "I hope you..."
But I didn't quite hear her last word very well, as it was being drowned out by the throaty growl of the air cooled 2-valve sultan-of-swinging-buffalo-meat throbbing between my legs as I rode off.
Yeah, I didn't quite hear it, but I think it was "Die".
So I continued on to Guitar Center on Van Ness to pick up my stuff, went back to work, making absolutely certain that I did not die along the way. Because if that had happened, man, wouldn't that have been embarrassing?
