Old Man, Casanova

So there we were. Just the two of us sitting on a bench at Kerry Park. The view of the entire city of Seattle and the Puget Sound was before us like a painting laid out across a museum's wall. We had walked the mile and a half to watch the sun set behind us and reflect off of the Space Needle and the city's water.

There is a motor scooter.

I can't really tell where it is coming from, but I know it's approaching us. I turn my attention away from her to see if we would get in a small fender bender. Scooter. Approaching us is a somewhat overweight older man wearing an over-sized bass fishing shirt. His hat is cocked above his head to the left and his large glasses take up close to three fourths of his face. The cigarette is dangling from his mouth...I swear it is going to fall out...catch it...

He stops.

Ok, look at him. Ah ha.

"Hello dere," he says. Watch the cigarette.

"Hi," we say simultaneously. His gaze turns toward her.

"Well then. What's such a fine lady like yourself doing with such an ugly brat like him." His chuckle takes more energy than it should. Watch that damn cigarette. Before we had time to respond I began laughing uncontrollably, as I often do in circumstances that complete my existence. His exit was the most excellent part of our engagement. He sort of looked around smiling, as though he had won her over. He had though...he really had, that Casanova.

You must understand that I think I have actually prayed about this moment before. I have often thought about being old and the super powers you get. He used his unmatchable superpower of offending anyone younger than him. I mean, you sit there reading this thinking that you would have said something witty, but you really wouldn't...no, you wouldn't.

Because I had a couple remarks in my holster as I have been waiting to be offended by an old person for quite some time. But I can't actually say anything. What am I to say?

"Oh yea, I ask myself that a lot, she does deserve a man on a scooter with maybe 5 years left."

"Yea, I know, she's always wanted me to pick up the whole smoking while scootering thing...I'm just not man enough. I don't got it in me."

"Old man, don't even start with me. She's mine!"

"Alright that's it. You. Me. No scooters - it's GO TIME BITCH!"

But you can't say anything. You can't even do anything. The guy is old, c'mon. Anyone with half a heart isn't going to say anything. The guy is out for a freaking walk...or, scooter. But nonetheless, I can't insult him, all I can do is rejoice in the completion of something I've been waiting for for way too long. God Bless America.