Cock Fights

My girlfriend and I had the wonderful pleasure of an up close and personal view of a cock fight.  No, not the illegal kind featuring two roosters.  More like the annoying kind featuring two cocks and a lot less brains.  We were just out for a walk on a beautiful early fall day.  I cannot stress this enough — it really was the perfect day for a walk.  So Marissa and I hit the Monon trail.  We made it about a half-mile from my apartment when a bicyclist shouts, “On the left” and passes us and the family ahead of us.

I’m not thinking too much of it, but apparently the fact that a bicyclist would dare move faster than him bothered the old geezer in front of us.

“Watch your speed, asshole,” he shouts.

I should mention, this guy isn’t really a geezer.  He is probably in his mid-to-late 50s.  He’s with his wife and daughter and together the party is walking two dogs.  He’s kind of a tall, fat fellow.

Ideally, the story ends here.  He said his piece.  The bicyclist wasn’t hurt in anyway.  He could just ride on.  Heck, neither of them had a chance to see the other’s face.  This is a moot issue.  Which is why I’m going to go ahead and label the bicyclist as a dick too, because he turned around and rode back to confront the guy.

It’s a bit surreal to me at this point.  My initial thought is that they must know each other and that’s why the first guy shouted and why the second guy turned around.  After all, adult men don’t act like this. Right? Right, guys? Right?

Ugh.

The conversation goes a bit like this (and it doesn’t matter who said what because neither of them is making much sense.)

Incoherent name calling.

“I’m just saying watch your speed. There is a speed limit!”

“My speed was fine. You control your dogs!”

“My dogs aren’t the problem this is a walking trail!”

“It’s a bike trail!”

Now, neither of them have actually stopped.  They’re still walking forward face to face.  They’re doing this really awkward side step thing while puffing out their chests and standing as close to each other as they can.  The walking guy’s wife is trying to drag him away, but this is a matter of pride now.  And of course, the bicyclists pride was wounded to.

Note to my friends and family: If I ever reach the point in my life where a geezer yelling insults at me injures my pride just shoot me.

This is the first case of pedestrian road rage I’ve ever seen.  I’m really thinking this will come to blows.  I’m horrified by the notion that two middle-aged men may engage each other in a fight over the presence or absence of a speed limit on a walking trail or over what a dog may or may not have done.  (The dogs by the way are attempting to make friends with the bicyclist.  I hope to never be less mature than my pets.)

Eventually the bicyclist got back on his bike and rode off — an action he should have taken in the first place.  The geezer, not to be robbed of the last word, shouted, “Go play with your spandex.”  Which is pretty funny especially considering he is only a few years away from needing Depends.  

It occurs to me that if these two men were dogs, we’d have to put them down because they’re clearly getting ornery in their old age.  Fortunately, these men were people so we’re supposed to forgive them and hope they grow up before they die in a couple of years — probably from a massive myocardial infarction that takes place while yelling at random strangers.

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