I’m coming back from the Wigwam, the local university food court, lunch in hand. I get behind a strolling bunch; three guys in moderately loud, mildly boisterous conversation. They are a few steps ahead of me, just enough for me to just miss going through the door they have just passed through. The first thing I notice about them is that they didn’t catch the door for me. I was far enough behind, though, and it was no problem.
I catch up to them easily (they are strolling, while I am hurrying back to work). I get right behind them just as the path we are walking on is cut off on either side, and I cannot go around. I pick up their conversation — one boy is speaking incredulously of a girl that simply stood there and smiled after he had made fun of her, and asked her for sexual favors. Needless to say, there wasn’t an ounce of respect in his voice for the girl.
By that time I had reached the point on the path where I could go around them – and did. They hushed for a moment, and then began talking rather pointedly — about what I don’t know. I got forty feet ahead of them, and one of them yelled, “BITCH!”
And people wonder why I hang out with the intellectuals.