I knew it was going to be a difficult day when on my walk to
work this morning I was almost run over by a bike… from behind… on the
sidewalk. I understand why people ride their bikes on the sidewalk on Elmwood Avenue. The
street is narrow and distractions are all around. It feels very unsafe to ride
on the side of the road. When I ride my bike, I usually ride on the sidewalk
too but with one notable difference. I have no illusions. I ride in my lowest
gear and move along at a very slow rate of speed. I’m often going as fast as
the pedestrians. It doesn’t bother me because when I ride on Elmwood’s sidewalk
I expect and respect the many people walking there. If I’m in a hurry, I take Ashland or Richmond
or a corresponding route with a little more space in the street. Elmwood can be
dangerous. I’ve had friends who have been hit by cars whether they were riding
or walking down the strip. While coming down the sidewalk I almost got hit by a
lady backing out of Nektar’s parking lot the other night. I literally had to scamper
out of the way. I understand why people do it.
Today I was simply walking up Elmwood, ear buds in and enjoying
both the walk and the day when this bike whooshed past me at a very high rate
of speed and he came within 2 inches of clipping me and perhaps causing a great
crash. My crime? I was slowly moving from the left to the right side of the
sidewalk because I saw a group of 3 people standing and having a conversation
on the left hand side about 25 yards ahead. I guess I didn’t signal and this
20-something year old guy was flying down the sidewalk on his little bike and
nearly ran into me. Good thing I was sliding over to the right slowly or I
might have had this guy’s bike up my ass. After he passed me he looked over his
shoulder and yelled something at me. I don’t know what because of my ear buds
and the music pumping through them. What nerve though, to think I am at fault
when you are riding a bike 10-15 miles per hour ON A BUSY SIDEWALK! That guy really pissed me off. Little did I know getting my dander up would
cause me to do something a few hours later that would have me feeling proud of
myself. Plus the experience gave me a great idea for a scene/section in my
novel so it wasn’t a total fail in hindsight but at the time I became a little testy.
While feeling testy, getting to lunch today was difficult. I take lunch later than
most, usually around 2ish, sometimes 2:30 even, especially when I come in later
and today I came in a little later. It was a struggle to make it to lunchtime
as everyday things began to get on my nerves, more than they usually do. The
morning’s commute had definitely had me feeling annoyed and nothing awesome
happened to balance the scales. When I am feeling crappy, I am only a nice
moment away from being balanced again. I just need something good to tip the scales
back. Unfortunately nothing good happened and the final straw arrived when
Rush came on the radio. Yesterday while watching the Bills game with the fellas I
complained about how the community radio at work is always on 97 Rock and it
drives me crazy. It drives me nuts because they play the same crap every single
day. We work at a record store! Variety and diversity should be a requirement
here! I made a joke yesterday about how they play Rush every day between 1pm and
2pm and when Rush came on at exactly 2pm today, the joke was on me. I had to
get out of the building, get some food and relax. Food always picks up my mood
and I went somewhere I often go just a block away from the headache at my desk.
There are usually a fair amount of lunch-time people at this
little restaurant but when I go after 2pm sometimes I get lucky and the place
is nearly empty. It is then I can really relax. However today was not one of those
days. The place was pretty full and worse yet it was pretty full with college
people. The college people often bother me because of the way a lot of them
speak. Basically, the girls give me a headache (and I already had one) and the
dudes really piss me off with the homophobia and objectification of women. Whenever
I eat, I really like to eat in peace and having a front row seat to an idiotic
conversation is not what I call peace. That said, idiotic is relative and the
more important part of this is when I am alone, I like to be left alone when I
eat. I like to dine in my own little world in the midst of this much larger,
more annoying one.
I usually want to get a table far away from everyone so I
can be alone with my thoughts and my chicken but today there weren’t many
places to sit at all. I had to grab an empty table next to these 2 guys with short
hair and posture that was almost too good. After a few minutes I understand
why… they are military guys. They’re dressed in civilian clothes so I didn’t
quite know at first but after listening to only a minute of conversation I knew
what they were. The two soldiers were talking shop, talking about guns,
procedures and most of all, talking ignorant. What do I mean? Well in just over
5 minutes of conversation many things are gay, several people are retarded, quite
a few of their friends are fags and/or homos and their lady friends are bitches
and sluts. Having to listen to this from the moment I sat down made it the
least enjoyable meal I’ve had for some time. Now these men were not soldiers to
me, they were idiots.
I kept my eyes open for people leaving so I could relocate
but no one was moving. I tried to just eat my lunch, tune it out and hope they would
leave at some point during my meal since they were there before me but I wasn’t
in the mood to listen to the hateful, ignorant ramblings of these two “heroes”.
Because I was in the mood I was in, I felt like doing something I won’t always
do… speak up. I kept telling myself speak up the next time you hear this. Then
it was okay, how about the next time you hear this. The ignorance was coming
faster than I could negotiate internally. Finally I decided I had enough.
Upon the 3rd time the one guy called someone he
knew a fag I turned and barked out; “Do you mind?” First there was surprised
silence. But before I could enjoy the more sensitive air he asked; “Did I offend
you… are you gay or something?” I thought carefully about my words and replied;
“Whether I am gay or not is irrelevant. You shouldn’t talk that way in public.
You’re not the only people in this restaurant.” The one guy halfheartedly
apologized but the other was defiant. He said to his buddy; “Yeah homo, you
shouldn’t talk about fags that way in public.” I rolled my eyes and went back
to my meal, now eating as quickly as I could. I made my point. The next
confrontation would probably have escalated the affair. I didn’t want to
spend the remainder of my lunch fighting two homophobic jarheads, although if I
had I probably would have sissy slapped them just to make another point. I was
upset but frankly, I have better things to do than be “the enemy”. I really
wanted to ask them a few questions. Of course they would have been questions
that would have set them off. So I bite my tongue and the chicken instead, settling
for feeling proud that I was not what I eat, at least not on this occasion.
After an awkward few moments the two kept on talking,
although they were a little less offensive. Despite having the greater numbers
I think confronting when they weren't expecting it them made them feel a little less comfortable and maybe for
the first time since they arrived they realized there were other people in the
room. I wasn’t going to win the war but maybe I won a small battle. Since
things settled down, my focus went back to finishing up my food as quickly as
possible and getting lost in my mind while having a deep internal conversation about
what just happened.
I want to project love as often as I can but moments like
this one make it harder. It gets harder because for years I have felt
conflicted about people and this presents yet another epic battle between my
head and my heart. At my core, in my heart, I absolutely love people. I love
all people. I want everyone to prosper, to love, feel joy and be happy. I also
want everyone to get along and be respectful of each other. It is a fantasy of
mine. My mind on the other hand can really despise some people. This is because
my mind is fully aware of how many ignorant, hateful, terrible assholes there are
out there and my mind resents the hell out of them. My heart represents warm,
sunny fantasies and my mind represents cold, dark realities. Try as I might I
can’t let go of any of it. I know too much. I feel too much. I understand,
empathize and hope. This means that I know full well we’ll never live in the
world my heart desperately wishes for because people can’t help but be terrible
but I will never stop wishing for it because the day I do, is the day those
awful people have beaten me. I’m far too stubborn to stop hoping. So I continue
defiant, hopeful and aware whether it makes sense or not.
Then suddenly, the two soldiers got up and left without a
word or a glance towards me. I preferred it that way. There was nothing else to
say. We don’t agree about life, about people and they won’t change my mind and
as it stands today I don’t think I will change theirs either. I accept this.
Short of them offering a real apology or having a genuine epiphany and thanking me for helping them, I don't even want to talk to them ever again. They walk out the door and my heart hopes they have a real conversation about
what happened while my head thinks they are probably talking about what a fag I am in the
parking lot. Regardless, I finished my food with a smile on my face and with my
conscience clear... not upset with myself for not saying anything like I’ve done
many times before in the face of ignorance.
After a few minutes of the sweetest tasting chicken I’ve had
in some time it was time for me to head out that same door into the same world those
two men just re-entered. I put on my sunglasses and I noticed an older guy
looking at me. He was certainly close enough to overhear everything that
transpired between the men and I. As I
rose from the table he asked with a snarl; “What, do you hate America or
something?” Well, that caught me by surprise. After a second, I knew what he
meant. He didn’t like that I would talk that way to American soldiers. I guess to him we are supposed to worship them and they can do no wrong. If I
could paraphrase a famous scene in American cinema, perhaps he thought they had
neither the time nor the inclination to explain themselves to a man who rises
and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom they provide and then
questions the manner in which they provide it. Perhaps the old man would rather
I just say thank you and went on my way. In a way the old guy pissed me off
more than the soldiers did. Perhaps I should have asked him the same question.
“Do you hate America?”
I really shouldn’t have dignified his question with an
answer but as I was getting my garbage together I said; “I love America,
but just because I respect and admire a flag or a uniform doesn’t mean I have
to respect who’s inside of it.” Pardon the pun but over the years I have really
learned to not look at all soldiers uniformly. The older guy scoffed at my
reply and I walked out of the restaurant while he mumbled something under his
breath. I walked back to work without further incident but my mind is now
racing. I keep hearing that question; do I hate America? The nerve! I think anyone
with half a brain would know that my actions today, while relatively minor,
would surely convince you that I love America. Unfortunately there are
plenty of people running around with less than half a brain. Unfortunately,
some of them wear uniforms. Unfortunately, some of them will cross our paths
daily and most unfortunate of all, many of them are registered voters. I love
everyone until you give me a reason not to. The problem is too many people give
me reasons. So do I hate America?
I can honestly say I do not but I would be lying if I told you I didn’t dislike
some Americans.
