So, every day I walk home from work in an attempt to work off all the candy bars I eat during the day…and every day I meet up with all sorts of adventures. However, the adventures have been dying off, which of course makes me cocky and think that I have something to do with it—I’m much more intimidating now and I’m amazing at not making eye contact with the world, and of course, I have the best looks of death—but my arrogance all ceased (temporarily) downtown last week when just seconds after I denied a ride from a serial killer who wanted to kill me, a guy honked at a pedestrian, who happened to be Native American (not sure what tribe) and homeless, which okay, he was jaywalking, so the honking was understandable, but THEN the driver said:
“Hey Chief, get out of the way!”
I gasped–because sheesh, what a racial slur! And since I was already feeling aggressive that day (probably because my ugly shoes give me so much power), I immediately shouted out jerk!—to the guy driving and we engaged in a glaring contest until he drove away (I totally won by the way). But when I finally tore my eyes away from the driver, I met up with the homeless guy I defended. I think he was trying to thank me, but he was so drunk that instead he was picking up on me and that made me mad again…and it also made me feel that perhaps this was ironic punishment for my glaring contest:
He asked: “Did you make your shirt?”
“Can I feel it?”
My eyebrows went in and my chin went up: “No!”
And I stalked away in my ugly shoes. And that’s when I began to feel pretty mean inside. Maybe I shouldn’t engage in glaring contests? Maybe I should use better psychology when talking to homeless people? Maybe I should at least nod my head in thanks to the serial killer for offering me a ride? Maybe I should every once in awhile acknowledge random people on the street?—but that could get me killed?—or even worse, get me a date! And as I was deep in thought, I heard a shout to my side. A poor little old man was trying to push his wife across the street in her wheelchair, but the chair was stuck in the rut of a trax railway tie. The problem was that their little granddaughter was standing in the middle of railway with a train coming on one side. They shouted for her to run, which she did and she hugged the pole on the other side of the street. And then the little old man pushed his wife back to my side of the street, hopelessly separated from the scared little girl. This all happened before I could do anything about it because I just wasn’t paying attention, so then I felt even more rotten!–why wasn’t I keeping an eye out for my fellow pedestrians? They shouted to their little girl that they would meet her on the other side, but still she hugged the pole in terror and wouldn’t move. That’s when our pedestrian light went on and I started walking away. After a moment, I heard another scream behind me. I turned and saw that the poor little old man couldn’t get his wife across ANOTHER railway tie. We had three seconds left before we lost our light and a train was coming their way this time. And so guess who ran back in her ugly shoes? Yep, which was pretty dang scary because I’m terrified of these trains, but I had to redeem myself…to myself, I guess. We dragged the wheelchair across the street (totally jaywalking and totally thumbing our nose at the train bearing down on us) and the little ol’ lady gave me a hug for my troubles and called me sweetheart, which made me feel pretty good because I’m so dang mean to the world usually.
I’d like to say that I’ve forever learned my lesson that day on the trax and now I’m the best psychologist on the streets when it comes to conflict on the road, but today I still called a skateboarder a jerk when he tried to run me down. The improvement, however, was that I didn’t put my foot out and trip him like I was tempted to do, so hopefully I’m getting better. The funny thing is that you probably think I’m exaggerating.