I was riding my bike on the sidewalks of Harvard Square the other day, speeding to yet another appointment--maybe a class or a meeting or a rehearsal. Who knows? It was something I was late for. I was weaving in and out of pedestrians and passers-by--nothing hazardous or anything, just trying to get through without being forced onto the autobahn that is Mass. Ave., while avoiding the possibility of getting flattened by a tour bus full of inquisitive grandmothers from Coral Gables.

Arriving at the crosswalk at Holyoke Street, though I knew I was still rushed, I realized I was at least going to make it to my destination on time. A feeling of relief settled over me as I waited for the light to turn green. For a brief moment, everything was in order. Life was good. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to work out all right.

"Do you mind?" The footsteps came running up behind me as I perched over my handlebars. "You!" A middle-aged lady was treading in my direction, her eyes boring into me. "Riding on the sidewalk, in and out of people! You're an idiot!"

I was caught completely off guard. "I'm in a hurry," I stated calmly, glancing at my bike to emphasize the point. "I was being completely safe. You just can't tell because you're stupid."

"No, you're stupid for riding your bike on the sidewalk," she responded. We carried on further with remarks relating to each other's respective stupidity as the light changed and I headed toward the River, and she toward the Square.

This exchange lingered with me for several days like a bad meal of enchiladas at the Winthrop House dining hall. It wasn't that I was upset about annoying the woman. I wasn't exactly mowing her down with my bicycle, so I don't think I was causing any harm. It was more the encounter itself. I like to think I possess at least some shred of clever, subtle wit in my marrow, and, "You're stupid," while displaying elegance in brevity, is not exactly a riposte worthy of Oscar Wilde.

In addition, the rudeness on both sides of the argument really bothered me. The least she could have done, in initiating the whole rhubarb to begin with, was come up with some polite yet clever way of scolding me: "Lovely mountain bike. Perhaps it would function best in the wilderness." And I would not have retorted so contemptuously. "Such is the urban jungle," I would reply, eyes twinkling, and we'd both go our merry ways.

Rudeness is, of course, prevalent in our society. And whenever anyone writes about rudeness, the first and most obvious temptation is to declare the current period in history the nadir of incivility, the low point reached by mankind after years of tossing values over the side like Sam Adams hurling tea into the Boston Harbor.