The other day I was in a hurry for dinner in college; decided it was time to socialize a bit. Got to my bike, front tire completely flat. Fuck. I ran to my flat, got the pump and started working. I was crouched next to my tire pumping in haste. I look aside and see another flat tire staring right at me. I look up. I see a woman with an expression saying “I got a flat tire too. Need pump.” I immediately say, trying to cut on the chit-chat, “look, I’m in a hurry for dinner; I’ll give you the pump, you throw it in the bushes over there when you are done and I’ll pick it up when I return. No, I don’t mind. Really, It’s OK.” She progressed with asking me questions like which college I belonged to and what’s my name (people have the need to show interest in these situations for some reason)… I was answering briskly while keeping polite, still pumping; somehow the energy I expended has not produced the expected tire firmness. Crap; could this be a real, first, flat? I gave her the pump and as I was riding away hoping the air would last the ride, she asked where I was from… “Israel” I answered, hoping to score some points for my country in the PR battle.

The air lasted for about 3.5 minutes. I walked to the lab, then home; I missed dinner. And the pump? Nowhere to be seen. I’m not sure what happened to it, but I can speculate. That’s what happens when I try to be nice.

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