I live in Evanston, Illinois, near Northwestern University. It’s just North of Chicago and is one of the more beautiful places in the Midwest. It’s right on the shore of Lake Michigan and on a late August evening it is one of the most pleasant places on Earth to take an evening stroll.
The other night, as I am wont to do, I was wandering the paths along the lake and lost in my thoughts. I wandered quite far and found myself on the Northwestern campus and was enjoying the cool evening with the gentle sounds of the waves lapping the shore and the cicadas singing in hopes of getting laid.
A view from Northwestern University’s lakeside campus. You can look south and see the shining lights of Chicago in the distance.I snapped the above picture and in a pleasant moment of reflection noted how beautiful my home is. It was nice.
In this moment, a young man and his girlfriend walked by. I wasn’t paying them much attention and figured they were too lost in one another to pay much attention to me (while I am quite handsome, I was wearing shorts, a t-shirt and a lightweight hoodie, so I wasn’t dressed as impressively as you likely imagine a blogger normally dresses).
But as the young man and his girlfriend walked past, he said ,”Excuse me, sir? Are we allowed to use the bathrooms in any of these buildings?” He pointed to the two closest Northwestern buildings.
I replied, “I don’t know. If the doors aren’t locked I guess you can.”
“Oh, so they probably lock the doors at night.”
This idea seemed novel to him and his jaw was somewhat slack.
I responded, “Yeah, probably. I don’t know.” And I did not, in fact know, as I am not a professor or student at Northwestern.
Our exchange finished with him saying, “Thank you sir.”
“Sir.”
Well, pardon my French, but fuck you. Don’t you start respecting me. I’ll have you know I am an immature man-child, and I will be treated as such.
You may call me “dude” or perhaps even “bro,” but never “sir.”
Fucking kid.
