Why You Should Always Listen To Old Men
September 27, 2010
One bright, sunny Labor Day weekend, I was briskly walking down Second Avenue in my chambray short shorts to meet a friend for brunch. On the way, I noticed an old man hooked up to an oxygen tank, sitting on a bench. He waved a frail, pale hand toward me, wanting to say something. I approached him concerned, looking for a nearby nurse.
“Nice legs,” he said.
This was no yellow helmeted construction worker, nor flat-brimmed cap wearing stoop sitter. If you subtracted my age from his, chances are he was still eligible for discounted movie tickets. Yet, there he was, catcalling on Second Ave.
“Nice legs,” he repeated a little louder, bringing me out of my shock.
“Thanks,” I said, grinning.
I made a mental note to tell my mother about the incident, as she is progenitor of said limbs. There was more strut to my walk for the rest of the day. Hey, a man like that has seen a lot of gams; he knows a good pair when he sees ‘em.
