When I was driving home from running errands, I had to stop at a red light. I had been on that corner hundreds of times in my life. Especially since I grew up down the street. When I looked over to my right, I noticed two teenage boys in a white Nissan Sentra. It appeared that the driver kept looking over at me, trying to get my attention. After we locked eyes, he turned his head toward his companion.
I started fiddling around with my radio, changing stations, trying to find something to settle on. After a moment, I heard the guys next to me make noises.
"Whoop, whoop whoop," each of them repeated. "Whoop, whoop, whoop."
I quickly glanced over at them again and saw the guy in the passenger seat lower his head toward the crotch of the driver. He raised his head up and down, simulating oral sex. The passenger did this a couple of times before I slowly turned my head, signifying I really had no interest in their banter.
The kids were laughing loudly. I could hear them over my music and theirs. I didn't want to look at them again. Not because I was bothered by their humor, but because I was bored by it. I looked to my left, took quick checks in my rear view mirror, messed around some more with my radio. Anything to keep from not looking over at them, and giving them the attention they wanted.
I guess I could have just laughed, or nodded, or did something to make a menial connection with them. But I wasn't interested. I didn't find the gesture amusing in any way.
I'm not sure what to think about that.
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