I got mooned. At a red light. By a woman.

Really.

The last time I was mooned I was in high school. This was right about the time the schools were fighting against the implementation of Title IX. Physical Education departments were run by aging jocks who were all coaching football, and anyone who played anything else was suspect. After all, the revenue from football helped fund the other sports. Unless of course, the sport happened to be played by girls. Let’s not even discuss funding for badminton. But I digress [heh, heh, she said butt].

Back to butts. In those days the PE classes were segregated by sex, so, I was in an all-girl class and we were doing squat thrusts or something in those teeny tiny cheerleading shorts that were the norm in 1978, and the boys were in front of us so they wouldn’t get a peep show. Only, we were the ones who got the peep show because the guys were doing pull-ups, and you can predict what happened…the guys who were spotting pulled down the shorts as the other guys went up. Nice. St. Lucy has never been able to remove the images burned into my retinas on that day.

That is, until today. I am forever scarred by the events that unfolded at a red light on my way home this afternoon.

I stopped, innocently enough, at a red light that had a a collection of nefarious looking young men pulling at their pants and grabbing their crotches (oh Michael, is that the legacy you’ve left after so many great dance moves?). Anyway, they weren’t the problem.

Across the street on the other corner was a young woman in a diaphanous minidress and amazingly high heels, standing in various poses of a sexual nature, yammering away on her cell phone. I have absolutely no doubt that I must have openly stared at her, and furthermore, have no doubt that I must have had a scandalized expression on my face because the young woman proceeded to direct at me what I can only call a modified pole dance because there was no pole.

Yep. She turned around, looked at me over her shoulder, and began to wiggle her…backside… at me.

I’ll pause here so you can recover from the horror.

She was going to town with her little dance, too. The guys on the other side of the street were unmoved. I guess they’ve seen this behavior often. Who knows. At any rate, she continued the assault through the red light. In a moment of Kramer-influenced disgust of the “I cannot look away” variety, I continued to watch the scene, both incredulous that it was happening, and a little impressed by the woman’s…agility.

While I was increasingly flashed by the growing intensity of her booty dance, I was convinced that she was possibly wearing a thong. Her final move, when the light changed was to hike up her dress to her waist and bend over to remove all doubt that she was wearing nothing.

Wow. I mean, really? In what universe is that behavior normal?