The Long Walk Home

Though my internal clock is set fifteen minutes behind the rest of the world, I hate to be late, and so was irritated as I pulled up to the stop sign behind four youths who were in no great rush to cross the street. We were already fifteen minutes behind schedule, which meant fifteen minutes fewer at the gym, where we already work out for thirty minutes less than we should every day.

The first kid sauntered across, fully aware that he was delaying traffic and there was nothing anybody could do about it, while the other two boys playfully tossed snowballs at the lone girl in the group. By the time I passed through the intersection, he was gone, across the street and onto the sidewalk on the other side. The two boys didn’t follow; they stayed on their sidewalk and threw wannabe-tough-guy looks at the guys in the Ford. The guys in the Ford threw back their best “Gimme a break, you’re half our age and we’re above this sort of crap” looks.

I followed the girl for several seconds while she walked down the middle of the street, finally seeing an opening and sliding around her and heading on my merry way. It wasn’t until two blocks later that the images fully processed: head down, hood up, shoulders slumped, no reaction when the two boys threw snowballs that exploded on her back. I thought she was part of the group. She wasn’t. She was outside the group, a loner, a loser, a nobody - until you needed somebody to throw snowballs at, in which case she would do just fine. I thought these were fun and games. They weren’t. They were a couple of bullies taking advantage of a weaker person, daring her to fight back, knowing she never would.

It was a sobering realization. I strive to be a supporter and protector of those who can’t support and protect themselves; what to make of the stark reality that this attitude, this compassion, only shows its face when I’m on the clock, and only toward those on my schedule? These guys are teasing you, young lady? Well, wish I could help, but we have a date with an elliptical, you see, and my carefully managed hourly schedule trumps your sense of personal security. Unless, of course, you can put a couple dollars in my pocket, in which case I will roll down my window and give those two little monsters an earful about proper etiquette, especially toward members of the opposite sex. Nothing in this world for free, young lady.

No. I won’t walk that road. But I will be more observant. Beware, juvenile delinquents of the world.