Mean Girls?

I was heckled yesterday.

At least, that's what I think it was, but it was kind of weird. It was by some kids (girls) on a Minneapolis public school bus. Let me explain...

Because I live and work in the city I take the bus/light rail train to work everyday. Yes, I'm super environmental! There is also no free parking at the campus where I work and I'm a cheapo. The money I save on taking mass transportation I spend on booze and dirty magazines.

Now that it's nice out I like to walk home from the 46th street station (about a mile) and I enjoy the walk and looking at people's gardens. It's a nice route and I walk past Lake Hiawatha and the golf course.

Everyday at the same time the school bus comes by and I'm usually on 43rd street, watching the golfers hook shots into the lake.

I'm walking along and the bus stops and lets some kids off. The ones in the back of the bus are hooting like a bunch of howler monkeys. Then I hear it...

"Walk, Lady! Walk!"

Umm, yeah, that's what I was doing. Walking. I look up and see a bunch of girls about 8-9 years old yelling out the window at me. I'm not sure how to respond. It sounds vaguely snotty, but they aren't insulting me specifically, but telling me, "Yes, indeedy, you sure are walking!"

It reminds me of the line, "Run, Forrest! Run!"

I still don't know what to do. It's not like I'm going to flip them the bird. Then one screams, "Great jacket!" She is jumping up and down with her thumbs up for emphasis. She is very authoratative but I don't hear any sarcasm.

I'm wearing a navy blue trench coat that has tortoiseshell buttons and is kind of satiny looking. It's Michael Kors...got it on clearance. Yes, it IS a great jacket. Still, I can't think of anything to say. Yell at them for appreciating my fashion sense?

I end up giving them a snarky half-smile and the bus turns the corner.
Now, I remember spending HOURS on the school bus. I know what goes on. I learned most of my dirty jokes on the bus, how to make spitballs, etc. We practiced our insults on each other, but I don't ever recall me or anyone else screaming things out of the windows. Not even compliments to stylish ladies.

Geez, kids today.

Once, when I was waiting for the train, a crusty old guy came pedaling past on a bicycle that looked like he found it in a dumpster. He comes creaking past, staring intently at me, and I'm thinking, "Oh boy, here it comes...wait for it."

He grins at me and yells, "I LOVE your bag!"

I had a fake Prada purse, cherry red leather with shiny silver buckles. It is cool. (Thanks, Kelly)

I smile and wave. "Thank you!"

Maybe it is a Minneapolis thing...