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This weekend, I was on the street, minding my own business and waiting for the light to change. It was a bit of a long weight, but the weather was quite nice, so it didn’t really matter. Someone approaches the corner from behind me and the following exchange takes place:

Stranger: Enjoying the view, dear? (For the moment, I will refrain from entering into a rant about the propensity of complete strangers to call me ‘dear’. I don’t know you! Why are you calling me dear? Doubly weird, this man was in his 30s – normally, the dearing comes from older people)

Me: Absolutely.

Stranger: Are you behaving yourself? (Again, what’s with perfect strangers asking me if I’m behaving myself or calling me ‘trouble’? Is it the cripple thing? Would you say these things to an ambulatory adult stranger?)

Me: Never! And you? (For once, I had the presence of mind to throw the question right back at the person, in a tortured attempt to reverse the condescension) 

Stranger: Oh, yes.

Me: What’s the fun in that? (Now committed to showing the guy what inane question it is in hoping that by pushing the issue, he’ll stop asking perfect strangers whether they’re behaving themselves)

Stranger: Well, I had syphilis. Second stage, so… 

Me: Right… um… oh, look! The light’s changed!

And calling “have a nice day” over my shoulder (as I am, after all, Canadian) I slam the chair into warp speed and spend the rest of the day regretting the impulse to educate a random stranger.