© 2009 Karen Van Fossan
If you've never been called a b**ch by random, teenage strangers, you don't know what you're missing.
Naturally, I was minding my own business when the whole thing took place.
Location: Corner of 16th Street and Avenue F in Bismarck, ND.
Time: Not long after the local high school let out.
Temperature: Zero degrees Fahrenheit, not including windchill.
My activity: Standing on the curb, waiting to cross the street.
My wardrobe: Suitable for Zero degrees.
Have you pieced it all together?
It took me a while to piece anything together. When the guys yelled out their SUV window, "Nice scarf, B**ch!" I was shocked. Furious. Vengeful. Thirsty for their blood.
What I wasn't -- was clever.
My own teenage years did nothing to prepare me for scarf-related harassment. What's a witty comeback for “Nice scarf”?
Takes one to know one! OR At least I know how to use it! aren't going to cut it.
Then, of course, there's the “B**ch” part. I considered an obscene gesture. But my fingers got it all jumbled up with the hand sign for Peace.
Anyway, as you might imagine, the whole thing raised my temperature quite a bit. I barely needed a scarf anymore.
Even a nice one like this.