To Whom It May Concern

It must feel horrible to return to your favourite bar and find it completely changed – filled with the type of people you beat-up frequently. And it must make you sad inside when you order a pint of your favourite mass-produced beer and are told that only local microbreweries are on tap. But can’t you see the ridiculousness in your loud statement “I don’t want any of that yuppie piss! Just give me a bottle of Bud!”? Look around you angry new friend – our pint glasses are filled with beers so dark and strong and black you can’t see light through them. Yet you call this “piss” and order a Bud? Can’t you see the irony in that? I am eager to point it out, but am pretty sure you would punch me in the face and neck.

You set me up old lady – made me appear quite the fool! I try my best to be a polite and well-mannered member of society – that’s why I offered you my seat on the streetcar for you and your tricky old bones! You turned me down – said you were only going a couple of stops. As our trip continued and you didn’t get off, I offered again! Practically insisted! You refused so forcefully I really couldn’t continue without causing a scene – perhaps by standing up, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you down into the seat. So I sat there with you standing right beside me, teetering and elderly.  I could feel the eyes of other passengers on me wondering what kind of young, able-bodied fiend I was for not giving you my seat. Oh, but you weren’t finished with me yet, were you? Suddenly an old man – bent and crooked – notices you and stands up! You exchange some sort of secret old-person nod and then you lower yourself into his seat! My god, you are crafty! Now everyone on the streetcar thinks this poor, ancient man had to abandon his seat because I wouldn’t! I sit shamed and embarrassed, and stare out the window for the rest of the trip.

You won this time, old lady. This time.

You are stunning, and I’m sure you know it. You didn’t just walk past my car while I waited at the red light – you paraded! And why not? You’re 18 – tall, thin and beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you in your meticulously assembled casual outfit. The orange light from the low afternoon sun lit you as if the entire street were a movie set – a movie starring you and your youthful beauty! Long legs and long hair, you must have known there were dozens of eyes on you. You were peeling the wrapper off of a McDonalds cheeseburger, an action I never would have thought could be so wonderfully titillating and ripe with suggestion! Then I watched in stunned disgust as – directly in front of me – you nonchalantly tossed the paper wrapper in the middle of the road. You are instantly ugly to me. An ugly, ugly person and it would have never worked between us.