I might have almost gotten into a fight last night; I'm not really sure.
Here's the deal:
Anyone who's familiar with my posts has probably already recognized that I have a real problem gladly suffering the actions of fools. It's my cross to bear, in that there are an inordinate number of fools walking the earth.
Case in point; I was out last night riding the Capitol City Trail. I had just turned back onto the trail right where it starts up again off of Glacier Valley Rd, right before Gunflint Trail. Right at the top of the little hill that's there behind the school there's a couple with their bikes parked right smack-dab in the middle of the trail, completely blocking both lanes. The gal was apparently having some kind of trouble with her bike, and is just starting to remount it. The dude - backwards snowboard hat and stupid hipster goatee and all - is just sitting there on his bike, watching her.
Why do they have to be taking up the entire bike path? Who knows? It's one of those mysteries of life, like the migration patterns of the swallows or the popularity of American Idol.
So, as I come up to them, I say (as I always do) "on your left." Only there's no left to which I can go, other than on the grass.
She spazzes out, and almost turns back into me. To her credit she blurted out what I assume was some kind of garbled apology. He just sits there, unmoving, like a lump of Axe-smelling meat.
So as I pass him I mutter under my breath, "Dude - be fucking smart."
"What did you say?" I hear him call after me, in that toneless, adenoidal voice that dumb young white men think makes them sound tough.
I love that. What the hell does he think I said? They were doing something dumb - she knows it, he knows it, I know it - and I said something to them. In that context, what would I be saying to him? "Dude - I like your hat?"
Well, it takes all kinds - and I speed on my merry way. It's a beautiful night; at the top of the hill there parallel to East Clayton Road I look out and the farmer's field is full of deer and wild turkeys, so I slow down to drink in the view. I think again of my ma's usual quote: "Where every prospect pleases, and only man is vile."
Finally I get to Lake Farm Park, and as I turn left to head back towards Madison I happen to look back down the bike path.
And there's dude! Steaming up the bike path towards me, still about 100 yards out, his face fixed with a grim resolve. The poor dumb fucker has been chasing me literally for miles, his mind doubtlessly roiled by scenarios of triumphant vengeance, his misfortunate girlfriend gamely trying to keep up with his Travis Bickleean pursuit.
"Oh for christ's sake," I think to myself. I slam ol' Bessie into her top gear, and I leave them behind like a fart in a wind tunnel.
I didn't even bother turning around to verify that I had blown their doors off; why bother? Fitchburg chump suckers think they can step to the G? That's unpossible!