I really don't understand the desire some individuals have to fight, without provocation or reasoning of any kind. I've been fairly immobile for the past two days, because some macho douchebag decided to throw me into a railing for no reason.
Let's back up.
I was out with my buddy Charlie, sitting on a street corner trying to call another friend when some (I was going to say 'guy' but that implies a level of basic humanity this thing lacked, so just insert the expletive of your choice) walked by, and looking down at Charlie, said, "nice pants, faggot." So Charlie, being slightly intoxicated and astounded, and, more to the point, being classic Charlie - turned around and said, "wait, dude... what? I mean, thanks, I love these pants, but... I don't get it, how do my pants make me a homosexual?" A reasonable question, but apparently when you approach someone like this with reason, their tiny little brain cannot fathom such a thing and they respond with sheer anger. After a few voilent words, Charlie continued, "no man, I don't want to fight you, I just was wondering what my pants have to do with my sexuality."
Now granted, this entire situation would not have ever came to pass had Charlie just ignored it, but... I can't say I blame him; in the face of such sheer ignorance I think he had every right to tactfully stand up for himself. Unfortunately this other thing had no understanding of tact. I stood by Charlie, trying to diffuse the situation; the other party, apparently having no problem with my pants whatsoever, mainly ignored me and tried his hardest to get Charlie to fight him. But after a few minutes of Charlie's rather humorous, though misguided, attempts at logical banter and peacetalks, the guy did the only thing he could do when affronted with someone who did not wish to engage in a metaphorical dick-measuring-contest, he took off his shirt.
It's hilarious, really, and had he just stood there Charlie and I might very well have just laughed off into the sunset (or, sunrise, really, as it was the wee hours of the morning). But he immediately started shoving Charlie across the street. So, I followed, saying "cool it, man" and other things like that, but he continued shoving all the way across and began down the other sidewalk, so at one point I got in between them and put my hands on his shoulders, and appealed for him to let it go, at which point he threw me aside, right into a large steel railing. After regaining my breath, which was instantly knocked out of me, I started toward them again, Charlie still backing up with his hands out telling the guy to relax. Luckilly, some police officers happened to be passing by. In the end Charlie and I walked away, with the guy continuing to rack up evidence of his stupidity by engaging in a shouting match with five police officers. We didn't stick around to see if he got arrested.
So, here I am, two days later, still icing and Ace-bandaging my rib cage, and not moving or breathing deeply a whole lot. I'm foregoing the x-rays, mainly due to lack of medical insurance, but also because you can't do much about a few cracked ribs, they just have to heal on their own. I'm also trying my hardest not to remember many of the idiots comments, or replay the scene where he took off his shirt, because that shit makes me laugh, and laughing hurts.
But, on a MUCH lighter note about my rib cage: I went over to my brother's for dinner tonight. My niece Karissa is 2 and 1/2 now, and so stinkin cute. Not being in NY very much these past few years she hasn't really ever adjusted to me, not like Londyn, her sister, who always came running whenever I stopped by (and who called me five times yesterday morning within two hours, and left basically the same adorable message every time - I wasn't ignoring... I just couldn't reach for my phone) At any rate, Karissa is finally warming up to me. We were playing in the back yard and she ran around showing me all the things she could do. And I felt like an old man, I really did. I couldn't move very well, I was slow, and every time I had to bend down to get something for her, or pull her in her cart, it was such an effort, and laced with old man groans. But it was worth it, I didn't even care about the pain, I just had to work around it. The best part was that whenever I wasn't looking at her, she'd call out "uunnca 'teve!" So cute.
So anyway, at one point she was sitting on the step, and I was talking to my sister-in-law, and Karissa called out "uunnca 'teve!" so I looked over, she smirked, and I said, "what are you doing, sitting?"
She said, "ssittin" and she stood up.
So I said, "what are you doing now, standing?" she laughed hard, for some reason this was hilarious to her.
She said, "'tandin" then sat.
I said, "what are you doing now, sitting again?"
She laughed, said "ssittin" as she stood, and so on.
This cycle repeated several times, each time apparently getting funnier and funnier to her.
So then later we are tossing a ball back and forth and she sat down on the porch, now just rolling the ball to me. Then she told me I have to sit, it was more like "ouu 'af t' ssit" so, with great effort I did. Then she told me "no, ouu 'af t'and." And so, again, with great effort, I did. And she just laughed her head off. Apparently repeatedly standing and sitting was a top notch comedy routine to this kid. I could only excruciatingly stand and sit so many times before resigning to ruffling her hair and suggesting a different game, but, it was lovely, it really was.
All my anger and frustrations that were brooding over this simple-minded idiot as I layed on an icepack yesterday vanished in the face of purity and love. And I am again reminded of what Ghandi said, "when I despair, I remember that all throughout history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall - think of it... always."
I don't know what makes human beings become so violent and cruel, and I don't know how to deal with it sometimes, but people I love help, and the fact that love and kindness is a far greater force helps, and today, these pictures of my nieces, and being "uncle Steve" to someone, helps.
It felt good to write here again, it's been a while.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
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3 comments:
Dude, what a crazy freakin story!
I'm sorry your ribs got broken, but I have to confess this story made me laugh out loud. What an absurd person to pick a fight over a pair of pants! I liked the part about your nieces, as well. I feel the same way about Isaac (he's three). The joy and innocence he exudes make so many other things pale in comparison.
....i'm a teeny tiny little ant checking out this and that
;)
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