this is not the crazy man
Ain’t no love in the heart of the city, Ain’t love in the heart of town…
Then he walked away, still mumbling his warning about appropriate dress for judgment day.
My co-worker, who was nicely dressed in some black tights, a multi-colored shirt and some flats, would probably not be considered obscene by even the strictest standards. Therefore, the only logical conclusion was that this man, with the straw hat and sleeveless sweater in 87 degree weather, is what we call out in the streets, “touched in the head.” Admittedly though, He startled the shit out of us. However in true big city fashion, we kept walking like it happens all the time (because it actually does). No need to make a scene because, again in true big city fashion, nobody around us would be willing to help defend us anyway.
Most who witnessed the incident didn’t break step and actually walked faster, I guess hoping to put some distance between them and us. Some brave souls took a peek out of the corner of their eyes, while others kept their head low. I guess they figured that street abuse was contagious and if they met eye contact with any of us, then they would somehow find themselves on the recipient end of the crazy straw man rant. A couple of folks even had the nerve to turned and stare at us oddly as if we were to blame for this. As busy of a sideway Market Street is during that time of day, most people branched away from us as if the crazy man with the straw hat was Moses and they were the Red Sea.
As we hurried away, unharmed, I wondered what if the crazy straw hat man spouting off about judgment day would have attacked me and my co-worker. What if he had a knife or worse? Would folks just walking pass be obliged to intervene then? Probably not. Unfortunately, we live in a time when self-preservation triumphs heroism. And while I wasn’t necessarily expecting anyone to step in and beat the crap out the dude, an acknowledging glance or sympathetic head shake would have at least let me know that we weren’t alone.
But I can’t be too hard on folks. It’s not like we called the police and reported that there was a crazy man about harassing folks out on the street. Perhaps if we did, we could have saved the next passerby with tights the trouble of being scared half to death. I guess that will be our other sin we would have to answer to when Judgment Day finally comes to past. COMING." He kept yelling that shit over & over again.
My co-worker, who was nicely dressed in some black tights, a multi-colored shirt and some flats, would probably not be considered obscene by even the strictest standards. Therefore, the only logical conclusion was that this man, with the straw hat and sleeveless sweater in 87 degree weather, is what we call out in the streets, “touched in the head.” Admittedly though, He startled the shit out of us. However in true big city fashion, we kept walking like it happens all the time (because it actually does). No need to make a scene because, again in true big city fashion, nobody around us would be willing to help defend us anyway.
Most who witnessed the incident didn’t break step and actually walked faster, I guess hoping to put some distance between them and us. Some brave souls took a peek out of the corner of their eyes, while others kept their head low. I guess they figured that street abuse was contagious and if they met eye contact with any of us, then they would somehow find themselves on the recipient end of the crazy straw man rant. A couple of folks even had the nerve to turned and stare at us oddly as if we were to blame for this. As busy of a sideway Market Street is during that time of day, most people branched away from us as if the crazy man with the straw hat was Moses and they were the Red Sea.
As we hurried away, unharmed, I wondered what if the crazy straw hat man spouting off about judgment day would have attacked me and my co-worker. What if he had a knife or worse? Would folks just walking pass be obliged to intervene then? Probably not. Unfortunately, we live in a time when self-preservation triumphs heroism. And while I wasn’t necessarily expecting anyone to step in and beat the crap out the dude, an acknowledging glance or sympathetic head shake would have at least let me know that we weren’t alone.
But I can’t be too hard on folks. It’s not like we called the police and reported that there was a crazy man about harassing folks out on the street. Perhaps if we did, we could have saved the next passerby with tights the trouble of being scared half to death. I guess that will be our other sin we would have to answer to when Judgment Day finally comes to past. COMING." He kept yelling that shit over & over again.
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