I want to apologize for not paying you the attention you deserve. Obviously, you are trying to announce your presence for some reason while I am jogging in my neighborhood or biking to Lucky Peak. You must be trying to accomplish something important, or you wouldn't be risking your limbs, leaning out your window, and shouting in such an urgent fashion. I am so sorry that I continuously put your life in jeopardy by not heeding your existence as you attempt to startle random people who are enjoying a little outdoor recreation.
So here is your chance. Please, let me know. What can we joggers, bikers, skateboarders, walkers, etc., do to help you?
Are you worried about me? Perhaps I am about to be attacked by a cougar?
Are you trying to make people crash? That would be a lovely sentiment, and it speaks volumes about your character.
Maybe you think I'm cute (because I kind of am), and girls like nothing more than unintelligible yelling to draw attention to their cuteness.
Or do you just think it's funny when I roll my eyes and mutter, "douche bag," under my breath? You do know what a douche bag really is, right? It's not exactly meant as a compliment, and I'm sure that fine upstanding boys like you—even though you might be frat boys—would not actually want to be douche bags in your next lives.
Here is the one glitch in your plot to get this pedestrian's attention.
I can't hear you!
Maybe your objective is to insult me in some way, but I can't hear you.
Maybe you are trying to scare people into inadvertently performing some Jackass stunt. But I can't hear you well enough to be that startled.
Maybe you are extremely articulate and have just imparted some profound wisdom, but—still—I can't hear you.
I should apologize again though. I believe I am being hypocritical. My friends and I did think it was kind of funny to yell at pedestrians while riding in cars in junior high . . . in JUNIOR HIGH! Nobody wants to be equated with junior high humor, not even most junior highers.
My fantasy is that I will someday catch up with you at Lucky Peak or DeMeyer Park or on the greenbelt somewhere.
If that ever happens, don't be surprised if I say, "May I ask what you hollered at me as you roared by in your gas-guzzling Ford F150 while I was riding my environmentally-conscious bicycle? (Which, by the way, might make me a better person than you.) But I am sure you said something quite intelligent, maybe even life-changing, since you insisted on shouting at me in a way that I couldn't possibly understand."
Again, my sincerest apologies,
Becky Turner-Duggan
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