I have referred to the Santa Fe Chip in previous entries (Enter the Santa Fe Chip and Stereotypes Collide in Santa Fe), the somewhat unidentifable chip on the shoulder of folks here. Their hatred for bikers, their love/hate relationship with tourists, the internal simmering that often results in a delicious anger-filled casserole. I was reminded of another run-in with the Santa Fe Chip when I saw this article, “Male breast op numbers ‘growing fastest’.”
One sunny day, I was out for a run with my lovely ladyfriend. We were sauntering down the Alameda when we heard a ruckus behind us. A low-riding Chevy Suburban with tight tires and wide rims was cruising down the road and throwing firecrackers at pedestrians – not an exceedingly friendly thing to do.
As they passed us, a firecracker landed at our feet. She shouted, “Real mature guys,” or something to that effect. I shouted, “Nice man tits, bitches!” It was a true statement, the truck was filled with healthy eaters. But in this situation, it was not a wise thing to say.
I did briefly think that pointing out the truth might make them see the light, much like Saul being struck down by God. Maybe they would even park their truck, give up eating junk food and join us for a run. We would light off firecrackers in a responsible manner and enjoy each others’ company. This did not happen.
“What’d you say mother f™£¢er??!?!?” they shouted as the truck slowed down beside us.
My heart began racing. I felt imminent doom riding beside us. I felt like a jerk for putting my ladyfriend in danger. We ran silently pretending that there was not a large truck filled with large people shouting angry words at us.
Fortunately, as we came to the next intersection, the truck of heavy men was in the right turn only lane.
We darted across the road and made our way downtown as the group was forced to turn right through the miracle of road laws. We escaped unscathed, but heartily shaken and fearful of the group finding us on our run home.
I made a promise to never make confrontational comments again to people who could easily kill me, at least not in the presence of people running with me.