Zambo encouraged me to post something to my blog the other day... I said that if anything happened over the weekend that got me fired up, I might feel compelled to post. Well, something happened... I came about as close as I have ever come to initiating a fistfight with another human being. I don't consider myself a violent person; I've only ever been in two fights in my adult life, and both of those incidents were times when good friends had just been sucker-punched by drunken shitheads who decided to pick on someone smaller than them. I hate that shit. Sure, I enjoy watching the UFC and there's nothing I love more than a healthy dose of graphic violence in a movie, but when it comes to the real thing, I'm usually content to stand aside and watch drunk idiots pound the hell out of each other. I don't go looking for trouble.
Anyway, enough preface. Here's the deal: I went into work today (Sunday) with a screamin' hangover and an empty stomach, ie. I was not in a great mood. Not a bad, "get the fuck out of my face" mood, but not a sunny, "hey, how ya doing" kinda mood either. I figured the only thing that was gonna pick me up was a nice 12" sub, so I hit the local Subway. One Subway Club Fresh Value Meal and $13.50 later, I'm on my way to work, in a much better mood. What can I say, I'm a simple man of simple pleasures.
Then I spot this semi-toothless, 20-something street urchin, pimp strutting towards me. The pimp strut is pretty retarded to begin with, but when you're a homeless white dude who probably HAS a pimp, you shouldn't be pimp strutting. The last thing you is, is pimpin'. He sees the Subway bag in my hand and figures I'll have change for sure, so he starts angling over to my side of the sidewalk. My general policy is not to give money to panhandlers unless they look like they really need it. Like, if you're missing a limb or some shit, or you're in a wheelchair, or you're one of those dirty-hot homeless chicks, then hey, the crack is on me. Here's some change, hope things start looking up for you. If not, then enjoy the crack. There used to be a little old legless dude in a wheelchair who dressed up as Santa and panhandled in front of the Eaton Centre in Toronto at xmas time, and I would always give that guy some change when I saw him. But if you're able-bodied, under 30 and not obviously insane, then I got nothing for ya. And if you're one of these punk-as-fuck, mohawk-sporting, $200 worth of tats and piercings street kids, wearing $150 Doc Martens and hanging with your pet pit bull, go to fucking hell. Even if it's xmas, you're not getting any of my cash. Go get a paper route, motherfucker. Anyway, this piece of shit fell into the latter category - he was in his 20s, no obvious physical deformities or disabilities, and he wasn't screaming at parking meters so I figured he still had most of his marbles. I was already shaking my head and saying "No, sorry" as he slurred, "Hey man, can you spare some change?", even though I had a pocket full of it (poker winnings from last night). So he says "I just wanna get a sub like you, you fuckin asshole!" For about... one-thousandth of a second... I thought to myself, maybe I should give him some change. Who knows what kind of shit this guy's been through in his life? Maybe he got kicked out of his home by his parents, maybe he does have mental problems that aren't immediately obvious... maybe his dad shoved a cricket bat up his ass and made him wear women's clothing when he was younger. But then the "you fuckin' asshole" part started ringing in my ears, and a curtain of red descended over my vision. I'm not even joking, I literally saw red. I always thought that was just an expression but it turns out it actually happens. Weird. I thought, Who the hell does this worthless bag of shit think he is? I'm a fucking asshole because I don't feel like giving this kid money to feed his crack habit? It's my responsibility to give him the money I worked for, at a job I'm really starting to hate, the job I'm going to on a fucking SUNDAY AFTERNOON while he's be-bopping down the street harassing people, and if I don't give him my money, that makes me an asshole?? Like I said, I'm not very confrontational, but this little fucker suddenly had a bullseye right in the middle of the fuzzy grey lumps that I suppose were once front teeth. I had some kind of weird tunnel vision and my only thought was, "I think I'm gonna punch this guy in the face as hard as I possibly can." I turned to him and said, "What'd you fucking say?" He had already turned and was walking away, but he stopped and faced me. "Nothing, man, don't worry about it..." I suddenly realized that I was wearing my knapsack, which could be a burden if it came down to fisticuffs, so I started taking it off. I said again, "What did you fucking say?" and he muttered something about getting a sub because he was hungry. A couple of smart-ass replies ran through my head, something about being hungry for fists, or, "Why don't you eat a bowl of crack?", but I was too pissed to mount any sort of witty retort. Instead I said, "Why don't you get a fucking job, asshole?" and walked away. Yeah, I know... real original. Bet he's never heard that one before. You know how you always think of the perfect comeback line way too late to actually use it, like when George came up with his "jerk store" line on Seinfeld? Well, once the rage-induced adrenaline wore off and my hands stopped shaking, I spent the next two hours or so replaying the entire incident in my head (instead of concentrating on my work). I was trying to figure out a better way to have handled it. It was really bothering me that some worthless punk who was probably tonguing some guy's balls for $5 at that very moment had gotten under my skin so badly. Then I realized, the perfect response to this shitheel would have been one of two options: 1) throw my sub into the street and see if he runs into traffic to fetch it, or 2) unwrap the sub and toss it in the trash right in front of him, then tell him it's all his. Either of those options would have been well worth the $13.50. Since Zambo and I tend to frequent the downtown core quite often on our daily quest for a delicious lunch, there's a good chance I might run into this guy again. So the good news is, I might be posting more. The bad news is, I'm probably going to blow $13.50 on a sub just so I can throw it into the street for him to fetch.
Aaaight, boys and girls, I gotta get some sleep.
