Excuse me?

It’s amazing how easily things taken out of context can be pretty darned offensive.

The other day I came in late to work (the morning after taking my daughter to the ER). Not wanting to add to my tardiness by parking in my assigned lot and being at the mercy of the university’s Cambus I opted for the public parking ramp across from the hospital.

As I rode down the elevator (I didn’t want to delay my arrival by taking the stairs, either) I looked across the street at the survey crew preparing the area for eventual demolition and construction, and laughed at the construction orange-fenced area which was apparently a hole, as indicated by the spray-painted “Hole” on the plywood (I really should have taken a picture).

I was still chuckling about the sign when I crossed the street, until I heard a low whistle. I have to admit I smiled a little to myself because it’s been a while since anyone’s whistled at me. The whistle came again, this time followed by a low, “Spread your legs!”

What the hell?

I refused to turn my head – both because I didn’t want to acknowledge it and because I could only imagine the look on my face – when I heard it again.

“Spread your legs!”

I was just about to stop and lay into this crude and obnoxious oaf about sexual harassment when he yelled, “Dan! Spread the legs on your camera – I can’t get a signal!”

Oh yeah. SO glad I didn’t say anything …