I’m walking down the sidewalk, a sunny afternoon, minding my own business. Up ahead is a bar, its front porch close to the street. Some scruffy beer-swilling guys are standing outside on the deck, smoking cigarettes, jawboning.
A woman wearing tight bluejeans comes out of the bar. Her car is parked in the lot near the sidewalk. The passenger side window is open; she leans in to retrieve something from the front seat.
One of the men on the deck looks at me and yells: “Bite her ass!” He repeats the phrase to make sure that I heard him.
Obviously these men were taking a break from a meeting of the local chapter of the Mensa Society.