See Me

On the way back from work yesterday riding on freshly-paved King Street toward a busy intersection at Mission, a car full of college students coasted up next to me at a red light (the shop where I work is right down the road from the University).

The girl in the back seat on my side had rolled down her window. She was wearing a sweater with a hood that looked like a tiger’s head, ears and everything. She looked at me with these big blue eyes and said, barely above a whisper through cupped hands, “You are an amazing human being.”

I am not good at sarcasm, but this didn’t feel like that. I have a flowing silver beard and I’m riding a pink cyclocross racing bike with pink hubs and tattoos on both arms. I think nothing of my appearance (clearly so because of this big, stupid beard). This girl, half my age, took the time to say something nice about me, to me.

Or more likely, she was mocking me. Hey, but at least she took the time to comment, right? That’s a win for me in this day and age. I’m pretty fucking invisible.

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