don't knock it till you try it: bike rage

Yesterday, while riding my bike to my parents' house, I got stuck behind two middle-aged female bikers. I was on the Minnehaha Creek bike path, which is, in theory, a two-way bike lane. Of course these slow-moving ladies were riding side-by-side, preventing me from easily passing them.

I realize I could have barked, "On your left!" and cut around them rudely, but I hate it when fake-pro bikers in their Clif Bar-branded bike shirts do that, so I decided to "do unto others" and just slow down and wait it out. It was only about half a block until my turn off--there was no urgent need for me to pass them.

I can't say that I was totally Zen about the wait. Their self-absorbtion was evident as they pedaled along slowly, oblivious to their surroundings, like the lumbering mothers in the grocery store who stand gazing vacantly in front of the pasta sauce, hands on hips as their cart blocks the aisle indefinitely.

I had plenty of time to listen to bits and pieces of the biking ladies' conversation ("Yes, so Alan works for 20 hours one week, scheduled, and then the other 20 hours are on his own time--evenings or weekends, if he wants, you know, flex time?") and to take in their Midwestern lady bike uniforms (the cautious bike helmets, the sensible mauve capris, the hiking sandals).

Finally we reached the intersection. Despite the fact that the traffic light was green, the women came to a halt, continuing to block the way. Since I wanted to turn right, I carefully edged around the women. I swear I wasn't a jerk about it. Then, when I'd ridden about 15 feet away from them, I hear one of them say, "Well, I think WE'RE just going to obey the rules over here."

Despite my naturally repressed nature, this "pushed a button," so to speak. Of course they would say something like that when I was far enough away to hear their snippy little comment, but probably too far away to bother confronting them about it. Typical midwestern passive-aggression.

I slowed down and looked back at them, rolling my eyes dramatically and making an ugly, sarcastic face that might have involved me sticking out my tongue. I considered turning around to go address their complaint in person (I've done this once before in response to a different condescending comment--it was strangely exhilerating), but I held back. It took all my resources not to flip them off or invite them to "blow me" (two knee-jerk responses that I suppressed).

Then I biked on to my parents house. I didn't mention the incident to them. (If it's even a little negative, then we don't talk about it.) My mom and I had plans to get dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. While we waited for our server, a vaguely familiar-looking guy came over to the table. "Susan? Shannon? Hi, it's 'Dave Semmler'!" It was the father of this guy I went to Catholic grade school with, whose parents I had known fairly well, back then.

We made idle chit chat for a few minutes. "I'm sure 'Mindy' will come over to say hi when she gets here--she's biking with a friend."

A few minutes later Mindy arrived, who I supposedly hadn't seen in 15 years. "Hi, Susan! Oh...Shannon. Hi." She looked at me, and I looked at her. It was a classic woman-to-woman disdain festival. A Curb Your Enthusiasm moment. There she was in her mauve capri pants and hiking sandals, her helmet in hand, her law-abiding friend behind her. "It's SO good to SEE you," she said in that totally dishonest manner that only women employ. I felt a rush of adrenaline. I could do it--I could make reference to the bitchy biking encounter! I could alienate everyone gathered around our table in faux-fellowship! But I lost my nerve. I agreed it was GREAT to see her, too. I'm not proud of giving in.