Andrew J. Lederer

a loud, boorish, fat woman was sitting to the side of the park, complaining about the pre-show speakers and oddball local acts.

then, when her favored act was to be introduced, she whistled piercingly, partially deafening me.

i asked if she could pull back on the whistling and she said something like, "there are 60,000 other square feet here."

when the show began, the whistling instantly resumed.

well, i took it as a personal insult. i said something and walked away but then i thought maybe she hadn't heard me, so i pushed past people, went right up to her and said (i think), "thanks for chasing me away, you noisy crone."

i took a new and better show-watching position (house left) and immediately felt guilty.

after all, words are powerful. maybe the old crone didn't see herself as a crone.

was this a croning offense? should i be making her see herself as an aged hag simply because she whistled?

once, in santa monica, i had a waitress who was, quite frankly, a cunt. (it's not too extreme a description of her.) she had an ultra-obvious nose job she probably thought made her look beautiful.

i could've said, "nice nose job," and shattered her soul.

but i did not.

giving the girl a permanent complex in exchange for a one night of nastiness would've been unduly harsh justice.

i said nothing and was proud of my deep, strong humanity.

humanity that escaped me last night.

i went back and told the woman that i was sorry; that i had not thought she was a crone; that i was merely trying to hurt her.

she smiled and said, "i am a crone."

i told her to get such thoughts out of her head.

she said she'd thought i was kidding about the whistling and, suddenly, all was well with the world.

you know, my father used to like to say that "words once spoken can never be taken away" (mostly so i could feel extra guilty about something i'd said to him).

i demand that he retract those words.