Etiquette lessons

Walking in the park today, I passed a quartet of Latino teenagers, shouting at each other about nothing. They were probably skipping school, but I was doing the same from work, so who am I to judge? All teenagers shout, have you noticed? Add to their numbers, and the sound multiplies. It bothers some people, but I like it. Everything is still so important; they have to be heard.

After I passed, one of the girls shouted, "you're supposed to say 'excuse me'!"

I made, in the space of one second, one of those complicated calculations involving race, class, age, and whether I wanted to ignore the girl for being rude, confront her for same, or use this as an opportunity to bridge the divide.

I turned around, and said, somewhat sweetly, "I'm sorry; excuse me."

"I didn't mean you," she said. A running man had just passed the group on the other side. Maybe he'd crowded them.

Later, after supper, walking to the bank, I stopped at 73rd street to let a purple Pet Bowl truck turn right, though I had the right of way. It was dark and raining, and I'd rather not get hit and/or wet if I can help it.

After the truck turned, I crossed, and a man passed me, saying as he did, "you had the right of way!" I couldn't tell if he was angry at me, or just trying to be helpful.

(By the way, I had to stay home from work today. I spent several hours in the very fine company of Stunt Mother and her family -- collectively known as The Disease Vectors -- and I needed to stop this cold that's coming before it arrived. For the good of everyone in my office, see...)