Just went to pick up some new furniture at IKEA with the fiancee. On our way home, driving on Provo center street, we were coming to a stop a little ways before a red light when I had to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting some jerk with a cane who thought he'd cross the street slow as a snail twenty feet back from the intersection, instead of just using the crosswalk. It's a pet peeve of mine when people cross anywhere intentionally slow, knowing that you're waiting for them; in this case, the fact that he WAS jaywalking made it even worse. Not only that, but the idiot had a CANE. Why would he intentionally put himself in more danger, being clearly at a physical disadvantage right now, and then act so haughty about it as he did? Pissed me off. So naturally, I let out a little honk to voice my displeasure and he looked back to meet my gaze.
He was about my age (I'm 28), shaved head (like me), and clearly a little hot-tempered like yours truly as well. The look he gave me upset me more and made me feel like a little constructive criticism was in order. I mouthed through the window, "Just use the crosswalk, bro."
He responded with a defiant, "Shut the fuck up!"
To which I responded in kind.
He then held up his cane like a baseball bat, which I pantomimed back, mockingly.
Then he did something I would never in a million years think of pantomiming back, no matter WHAT he had said or done: He pulled up his right pant leg and showed me his prosthetic leg.
.....
Now, I would normally be the first to say, "Hey man, that was a cheap shot on his part. There's no way you could have known that. He can't treat people however he wants and then win the day by playing that card. Don't sweat it."
But that argument didn't hold water this time. I knew deep down that should never have happened, with him, or with anybody. In a way, everybody has a prosthetic leg that we can't see; everybody has some hidden struggle, some painful ordeal they are coping with. There's no telling what role each word we speak and each gesture we make will play in the lives of our brothers and sisters; no way to know how close to the edge they are right now, or how far removed from tragedy.
Spewing anger may feel like the right response now and again, but love has never brought me regret. I felt like a pile of shit tonight. That guy looked just like me. It's kinda stupid, I know but... he did.
He was about my age (I'm 28), shaved head (like me), and clearly a little hot-tempered like yours truly as well. The look he gave me upset me more and made me feel like a little constructive criticism was in order. I mouthed through the window, "Just use the crosswalk, bro."
He responded with a defiant, "Shut the fuck up!"
To which I responded in kind.
He then held up his cane like a baseball bat, which I pantomimed back, mockingly.
Then he did something I would never in a million years think of pantomiming back, no matter WHAT he had said or done: He pulled up his right pant leg and showed me his prosthetic leg.
.....
Now, I would normally be the first to say, "Hey man, that was a cheap shot on his part. There's no way you could have known that. He can't treat people however he wants and then win the day by playing that card. Don't sweat it."
But that argument didn't hold water this time. I knew deep down that should never have happened, with him, or with anybody. In a way, everybody has a prosthetic leg that we can't see; everybody has some hidden struggle, some painful ordeal they are coping with. There's no telling what role each word we speak and each gesture we make will play in the lives of our brothers and sisters; no way to know how close to the edge they are right now, or how far removed from tragedy.
Spewing anger may feel like the right response now and again, but love has never brought me regret. I felt like a pile of shit tonight. That guy looked just like me. It's kinda stupid, I know but... he did.
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