Yes. That was me. Standing on the corner of 9th and Chestnut wearing my bike helmet and sunglasses and waving my fist and yelling at the big guy driving a maroon Lexus. I needed to vent and this guy was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
My bike was stolen yesterday. Not gone forever, but simply removed from the marina and re-locked directly outside of the marina. I had a doctor’s appointment at 10:45, at 10:30 I realized my bike was missing. For fifteen stressful minutes I talked to police, watched them dust for fingerprints and talked with the harbor master about cutting away the thief’s lock.
At 10:50 I borrowed the harbor master’s bike and rode to my appointment in Center City. As I was getting off the bike I nudged the bumper of a shiny red Lexus with my foot. The driver honked at me. I turned around, waved and said “sorry.” He yells out his window: “Sorry doesn’t take a scratch out of my car.” The normal “Kristen” reaction would be to smile, repeat my apology and walk away. Instead, I escalated.
I looked at his bumper and said: “there’s no scratch.” A woman standing next to me chimed in: “Yup, no scratch.” He got out of his car, and he was big. Over 6 feet and over 200 pounds. He looked at his bumper and said “No scratch but that doesn’t mean you can disrespect people’s property,” etc.
He didn’t know that my bike had been stolen; he didn’t know that I was late for my doctor’s appointment; and he didn’t know that I was feeling a little frazzled. So, yes. That was me. Standing on the corner in my bike helmet and sunglasses yelling at the guy and gesturing at his bumper and at my rubber-soled shoes.
Completely out of character. But it felt so good. Hey, he wasn’t being polite or friendly to me so I simply took advantage of the situation and relieved a little stress. It felt so good.