Salvete...
I just have to remind myself that I'm working with teenagers. Here is a story, told to me by a friend, about an experience with teenagers she had in college. That makes it sound like I was told this recently. She actually told it to me like three days after it happened, and that was about two years ago. Considering the length of time since I heard the story, forgive any inaccuracies.
Anyway, without further ado...
Once upon a time, L was riding her bike to campus. A car, containing two or so teenagers, drove by her. All of a sudden, L was struck by a hamburger. Yes. A hamburger. Ketchup, Mustard, and All.
L, now dirtied with such accoutrements of fast food as are appropriate to being hit with a hamburger by a passing vehicle, filled with rage. However, unable to do anything, continued riding her bike to campus. Behind her, she hears a car. Yes. You guessed it. The same car. Equipped with another hamburger.
Struck again, L filled with rage. The car in question reached the end of the block (a busy intersection) and had to stop sooner than the driver could have hoped. L was able to catch the vehicle, and approached the window. She told the teenager, through the window, that she was going to call the cops. She went to the back of the car, wrote down the license plate, and went on her way.
Those people in the car are the people I work with every day. Here's to you, L.
Valete,
Magistra
1 comment:
...Wow. That's surprising, and yet not so. Did she call the cops? I wonder if the kids got in trouble. I hope so. Little hooligans. Don't they know only the Hamburglar and J. Wellington Wimpy can toss such things?
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