A few days ago, I was running some errands in Phoenix. I was making a right turn at a stoplight, and inched my car forward to check for openings in the oncoming traffic. It was a busy time of day, so I ended up waiting 20-30 seconds. At that point, knowing that I probably wouldn't find an opening for awhile longer yet, I kind of glazed. Imagine my surprise when I heard a loud bang, and focused my eyes to find an elderly, wild looking man slamming his hands down on the front of my car. He was dressed not so subtly in very short cut off jeans... and no more. (Arrested Development anyone? Imagine Tobias in 40 years.) As soon as I made eye contact with him, he raised his arms in a gangster style "what" . Having no idea what his problem was, I quickly arched an eyebrow at him and looked away. Realizing he had no audience for his tirade, he eventually moved on. A few seconds later (still no opening in the blasted traffic!) I realized that he was perhaps enraged over the front end of my car encroaching halfway into the crosswalk.
Irritating, right? I'll be the first to admit that I was in fact in his walkway. Yes, I was in the wrong. I was halfway into a cross walk... an area that should be a safe zone. That said, did my actions justify his response? I think not. By that point, I was finally able to make my right turn, and I spent the next few minutes silently fuming whilst Mia wondered "Who dat man, momma? Who was dat?"
As I struggled to answer Mia's question, I found myself wondering who "dat" man was as well. He looked slightly too clean to be homeless (emphasis on slightly). Is this man someone's father? Someone's grandfather? Who loves him? Whom does he love? What is he like when people like me aren't ticking him off? Does everyone in the world tick him off on a regular basis? Will I be that cantankerous in 50 years? Will I be tempted to walk around one of the busiest cities in the world in nothing but my skivvies? (Dear reader, I will try to avoid this last thought at all costs, for your sake as well as mine).
Thankfully, this thought train was just enough to derail me from my previous funk filled attitude and carry me into a more philosophical genre.
Where do you think YOU will be in 50 years?
1 comment:
I used to think I would be the cat lady. You know, the old maid with 20 cats. But then I got married. So, now I don't know. I had no idea you live in Arizona! We live in Queen Creek.
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