Bebe Cooper

According to the man who held the door open for me on my way out of 7-11, the man who caught up to me on his bike about fifteen minutes later, the bus driver was hitting on me. To be clear, I wasn't on the bus, nor was I waiting for the bus - I was walking on the side of the street with traffic heading the opposite of my direction. I thought it was a little odd for the bus to be stopping where it was, just after Huron rather than just before India, but I didn't think much about its oddness - until this man on the bike, passing me just as I was walking past this oddly stopped bus, slowed down to say "That bus driver is hitting on you," in a sort of haha tone. Close to home, and just wanting to get there to have my egg salad sandwich, I replied in an equally haha tone "Really? I'm just trying to get home!" I didn't even look to see if the bus driver was watching.

I reminded him of Bebe Cooper, a girl he went to school with in the 70s. Me, in my white romper and gold chains and 4-inch heels. "I wasn't even born in the 70s" I said. He didn't look as old as he was, he replied, then told me to get home safe and rode off.