Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Weekend Update: Warning Sign


Maybe this is a complete coincedence. Or maybe it was a warning. You be the judge.

Saturday

6:15 p.m. - After exiting Penn Station with Larry, narrowly avoid getting hit by SUV turning corner. Yell, "Asshole!" at driver, whose window is open. Notice, as you look back, that driver has stopped to yell back out the window at you, saying, with a thick foreign accent, "Athhole! Fack YOU!" Endure brief lecture from Larry, who imagines that this driver might circle the block to kill you. Roll eyes. On a warm Saturday afternoon in Manhattan with everybody out in droves? Not a chance. We'll be home by the time that happens.

Sunday

5:00 p.m. - Return from Astoria. Exit subway on corner of 23rd and Fifth. Notice two men in street, engaged in a fist fight. Both have fallen to the ground and one is on top of the other. Notice how time slows down when you see things like this. Rush to corner to get better view. Onlookers yell for police, who are conveniently posted near the corner, probably gratefull for some action following a long day of watching people at the lame street fair. Notice that this one particular cop utilized a unique method to get the man on top to get off. He kicks him. I like his style. I might apply to become a cop now.

The Lovers are pried apart and the story unfolds. The older man was crossing the street, the younger man almost hit the older man with his car. There was a standoff, the younger man stopped, opened his door, and, according to him, was "assaulted."

The younger man desperately tries to get the cop to see his side of the story, going so far as to make eye contact with a man on the sidewalk. "I was just just lookin to...talk!" he says.

"No, you were lookin to fight, man," says the Jamaican man, watching the scene.

I decide to leave, since all the good stuff is over. Maybe I'll just keep my mouth shut next time I'm crossing the street.

3 comments:

Vidis said...

I used to think it was good to carry a real-looking toy gun in my glove compartment and pull out it on assholes when they cut me off, until one day someone pulled a real pistol and I sped for my life - oh to be 17 again.

Even though Larry's probably right to just keep your cool when stuff like this goes down, it's really difficult not to scream "Asshole"!
Which reminds me I should stop saying "fucking Jersey" in the window every time I cross the street and a car with blue or yellow plates almost gets me.

Chris said...

OMG. I am always yelling, "Go back to Jersey!" Maybe I should stop.

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