People seem to want to pick fights with me. I don't know what it is. Just tonight at volleyball, one of the opposing players started kicking sand at me while I wasn't looking. Totally unprovoked. Well, maybe not totally.
Although sometimes it is completely inexplicable. Like last week. I was buying some bike parts from a guy I'd found on craigslist.
I dragged my friend E along because he is good with bikes. The place wasn't hard to find, although it was a little hard to get to — the street on which the house was located was under heavy construction and closed off halfway down.
I parked somewhat illegally and we walked up to the house. A guy about my age answered the door. He took us around back and we poked at the pile of bike junk with a flashlight. After we'd sorted out which parts I needed, E asked the guy, "how much for that frame?"
"I was kind of hoping to get rid of all of it," the guy said.
That is how I wound up buying 3 whole frames in various states of completeness, but one constant state of workingness: not.
So, back to the original point of the story. The bikes needed to be dismantled (ever further) to fit into my hot little (read: ridiculous) sports car. There we were, three guys standing next to my car, one with a flashlight in his mouth, taking apart bikes in the dark.
Then some guy in a suped up Honda Civic came down the street, talking on his cell phone while driving. As I mentioned, the street was under severe construction and closed halfway down. As he reached the barriers he clearly failed to notice the convenient alleyway off to the side. His solution was to back down the street which had cars parked on both sides. We're talking mere inches of clearance here. All the while still talking on his cell phone, of course.
I was fascinated and flabbergasted. I watched him intently, waiting for the sound of metal scraping metal. About 2 cars back past me he stopped, stuck his head out the window and asked, "You got a problem?"
"No," I said, "we're okay, thanks," figuring that he was offering us assistance. We probably looked like some guys trying to fix a flat tire or something, I thought.
"Cuz you were kind of staring at me," he snapped, before continuing back down the road.
Apparently I don't even have to open my mouth to get people to want to fight me. Who'd have guessed?