Court Ordered

I always see the usual suspects when I get out on the bike in the morning: the dog walkers, the runners, the teenagers sneaking back into their houses, etc. We all acknowledge one another with a head nod or a polite, "Hello". Typical stuff. This morning I ran into a guy on a bike as he was pulling out of his driveway (please note that there were like three cars in his driveway). He was wearing work boots, pajama bottoms and a 'seen-better-days' Giants jacket. I pedaled past him and he started talking to me so I slowed down. The smell of booze and stale cigarettes was overpowering. He'd seen better days, or not, maybe he's always looked that horrifying. I don't know. He was huffing and puffing and we were going like 2 mph. His smell was toxic. Then I spied spittle and a pasty white substance on his lips. Oh God.  I wanted to ride away but the mid-westerner in me didn't want to be rude (shocking, I know) and I also was a little curious. It went down like this:

Drunk: "Hey."

Me:  "Hey."

Drunk:  "Are you you doing this for fun or are you going to work?"

Me: "Ummm..Fun. You?" (I totally knew the answer.)

Drunk: "Fuck me. I'm just trying to get to my community service. How long do you think it will take me to get to Franklin?"

Me:  "Not sure. I don't really know how far Franklin is."

Drunk: "On 23."

Me: "Okay. Still no idea. I'm sorry."

Drunk: "Well, fuck you then, you fuckin' bitch."

Me: "Have a nice day. Enjoy your ride." And I  rode away from that mess.

I could still hear him muttering obscenities as I rode away. On the way back home I saw him zig-zagging in the wind and trying to pedal down Clinton. He wasn't too far past where I'd left him. He looked at me and gave me the finger. How neighborly.