I was at the gym, working out. This is where I curse my polite new Zealand upbringing. A guy wheels past in his wheel chair, and smiles. Being a nice person, I smile back and go on with my set.
He stops, wheels back, performs a 180 and is now facing me, sitting down. He says “hi”, and I, in return, as you do, said “hi” back. Well, pleasantry ensues, and I’m not sure where to look, so I maintain eye contact, and try to keep the conversation light while exercising, which is no mean feat while lifting heavy weights.
I then heard, perhaps, the most offensive pick up line I’ve *E-V-E-R* heard. “I really love your lisp.” This, I’m sure, was meant in a sweet way. But for me, it just brings to mind sound bites of Cindy Brady saying things like “Missssssta Dietmyer, Issssss jussssssst dropped my ball in your yard.” & “Hey Marssssssha, wait up for me pleassssssse.”
Now, if this had been anyone else, my riot act side would have come out. New Zealanders, while polite, also have a natural tendency towards sarcasm, and I’ve been known to cut people down at 30 feet – BUT – none of those folks have had a handicapped sign hanging from their rear view mirror. So I ended up allowing him to roll me to my car.
I guess the lesson here is, next time, they can be missing an appendage & I’ll let them have it.
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