Three blocks in on my bike commute to work today, a man driving a midsize SUV slowed as he approached the four-way stop sign. When he saw me in my Dutch-orange soccer shirts and pink Go Greek shirt, he sped up, ran through the intersection while I was in it, and screeched to a halt a yard away from me. I shrieked, as one is wont to do when in mortal peril, and then quickly shifted over to a medley of “fuck you[s],” “what the fuck is your problem[s],” “you stupid fucking jackass[es],” and “go fuck yourself you fucking bitchass dipshit asshole.” Sorry my vocabulary diminishes significantly when angry at strangers.
He laughed an apology, told me which of my orifices gefällt ihm the most, and sped off.
I love summer.