No, excuse me!

Walking home last night along New Hampshire Avenue, in the freezing cold, my head hunkered down between my shoulders, I had to stop short somewhere around S Street as I came face to face with a gentleman who had suddenly turned around. He said “excuse me,” not quite in a “get away from my car you bastard!” way, but definitely not in a “I’m so sorry” way, either. I got the impression that he was somehow upset with me.

I answered with my own surprised “excuse me” and moved past him and his friend. As I did so, he commented “I thought I heard someone walking up behind me.” And by God, I reckon he had!

New Hampshire Avenue at 9 pm on any night is quite a well-lit and busy street. People walking dogs. People walking home. People going out to bars. Taxi cabs, bicyclists, police cars, garbage trucks. So why was this guy surprised that someone was walking behind him? He was walking behind someone else! Perhaps he just moved here from some terrible place where people don’t walk anywhere, like Fairfax, and was a bit over-stimulated. Or perhaps he needs to move back to some terrible place where people don’t walk anywhere. Like Fairfax. I was baffled.

I cogitated about this for a while, and I realized that it must have been my Wonkette-christened “dipshit galoshes” that I was wearing. Apparently, they give me super-human sneaky powers, allowing me to “walk up behind” people without them being aware until the very last second. I’m not sure how to harness this power yet, but I assure you, I will only use it for good and not for evil. And maybe for practical jokes.