A Case of Mistaken Bikentity

(My outgoing and friendly toddler daughter and I are at the check stand; she’s sitting in the cart. I’ve unloaded and the cashier is scanning my items. It’s very busy and kind of noisy, but the following takes place during one of those silences that sometimes happen in crowds.)

Daughter: *looking over my shoulder with a huge grin* ‘HEY, LADY!’

(The cashier looks up and freezes, going dead pale. The bagger looks up and does the same. The customer before me, picking up his bags, looks up and takes a quick step backward. At this point, I’m worried, but I turn around to see a 6’6″ biker, in colors, tattooed everywhere, with a full mustache and beard, and hair down to his butt. His mouth is hanging open; he’s clearly in shock.)

Me: ‘Um, she’s still a little shaky on the man/woman thing. Sorry…”

Biker: ‘BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I guess I’ve been called a lot worse! BWAHAHAHA!’

Daughter: “BWAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Me: *and everyone else, silently* “Whew!”