"Asshole," I muttered.
A dude in a crossover SUV leaned on his horn as he passed by a bunch of teenagers, predominantly young women, waiting in line outside Ford's Theater in Washington, DC. I had just left a breakfast joint across the street with my family this morning.
"I don't get it. Why was that guy honking?" asked my soon-to-be-twelve-year-old son. I swear I didn't set this up, but the cosmos lobbed me a great assist.
"There are guys who honk their horns, or whistle, or hoot or yell when they pass women on the street."
"Doesn't matter right now. As a gentleman do not ever, ever do that."
"And if you're ever with anyone who does it, you tell them to cut it the fuck out. And use those exact words."
"I don't like to curse."
"I know. But that would be an appropriate time to use that wording. The people who do that kind of thing are causing the breakdown of civilization. Our job is to stop them."
Not the most elegant choices of words, but it was a chaotic city street and I guess I felt like the most important thing was to be unequivocal and immediate.