I did a little cycling today — nothing crazy, but as usual, you go for a ride, you start thinking about dying on a ride. Twice in one week recently, I had motorists pull out in front of me, close enough that I had to do the I’M RIDIN’ HERE Ratso Rizzo thing. Both drivers were on their phones. One was on her phone and looking at a cute doggie being walked on the other side of the street.
Whenever this happens, I’m amazed at how angry I can get, justlikethat. I think it has to do with the nature of the exercise — your legs are pumping, you’re feeling good, the blood is running high, and then someone gets in your way, and THIS WILL NOT STAND. I’ve stopped listening to the iPod on the bike the last year or so, because music only makes it worse. God help you if you cut me off and “The Rockefeller Skank” is in my ears, because I’d kill someone under those circumstances.
So I guess what I’m saying is, I understand how the lawyer in New York got hit by a lunatic cyclist who simply couldn’t accept the fact that a crowded urban park is perhaps not the best place for speed training.
It’s so hard to compromise, especially when you’re a high-achieving New Yorker. Where I live, the residents get amazingly whiny about being asked to lock their damn cars, as though they live in Mayberry and not across the street from one of the most lawless cities in the union. I guess in New York, when you’re a hard-charging Type A training for your ninth triathlon — and of course you’re doing the Olympic distance, and not the wussy sprint — no one wants to be told they should put that bike on a train and go somewhere you can do 35 mph speed pieces. Not when Central Park is right down the avenue.
And now you’re bored to death. Here’s another lawyer story:
Remember the guy, a Michigan assistant attorney general, who was obsessed with the gay student-body president at the University of Michigan? And put up a scurrilous blog about him, and stalked him, and went on Anderson Cooper, displaying perhaps the most obvious case of shall-we-say-supressed-weirdness ever?
The student-body president is still dealing with him, and today won a $4.5 million settlement against him. I haven’t been following the case terribly closely, but I heard the victim offered to drop it all in exchange for an apology. Refused.
And while it might be fashionable to think this is about freedom of speech and gay rights, what it makes me think is, how the hell did this guy get hired as an assistant a.g. in the first place? I know not every lawyer can be Atticus Finch, but lordy.
Not too much of a segue here, but if you live in Michigan or care about actual election-related shenanigans, I suggest you read this. It’s sort of appalling.
We’re off to Stratford in the a.m. Three plays — Henry V, Pirates of Penzance and 42nd Street. We few, we happy few. Please, play nice while I’m gone, eh?