Down the street at the park, Jason found an empty bench near some willows overlooking the pond, plopped down onto it, and slurped some of his coffee.    It was a gorgeous morning, with the sun sparkling off emerald-green foliage and winking among undulating shapes on the water.  A cluster of mallard ducks sailed serenely by, the deep blue-green heads of the males lustrous as peacocks.

Jason leaned back to savor the scene.  He started his weekend mornings this way whenever he could.   He didn’t need to go on expensive vacations to unwind and feel…well…nourished by beauty.  He’d learned to enjoy it close by, for free.

As he gazed contentedly over the water, a corpulent man in designer exercise clothes made his grandiosely splay-footed way up the path.  For no apparent reason, of all the potential places to pause and take in the view of the water, he chose to stop directly in front of Jason’s bench.

Jason glanced away and waited for him to move on.  He hadn’t really come here to look at a fat guy’s ass.

The man stayed parked where he was.

Jason slid to the other end of the bench.  He could see the pond again, but Mr. Jogging Suit remained excessively prominent in his field of vision.  

“Excuse me,” said Jason, “but would you mind moving?”

The man glanced back at him.  “Huh?  Oh.”  He sidled about a foot to his right.

Jason rolled his eyes.  How could this guy be so oblivious to the normal, if unwritten, customs of social interaction?  It wasn't like he was talking on the phone, or engrossed in a book, or anything like that.  

Jason considered his chances of communicating more successfully with him and shook his head. He looked to his left, then his right:  no more empty benches.  He rose with a sigh and stalked away from the pond.