My Descent

Yesterday, I’m walking down the stairs to the MUNI at Church and Market, southwest entrance. I’m behind a young woman, with shiny black hair rivering in all directions, and some kind of pink and white something on. She walks at a steady pace and I’m at her heels, and suddenly, before we’re halfway down the stairs, we’re slowed to a crawl. An old Chinese man is walking one step at a time, shuffling with a cane in one hand and the railing in the other (at least I think he’s Chinese, because the nape of his neck seemed Chinese, with its black hairs standing out individually against orangish skin). He’s slow. Well below average in speed. And quickly, moments after some worried thoughts about missing my train (which I in fact do), I’m able to enjoy his pace. Actually, thinking of my mentality of the time, that doesn’t sound right. I didn’t miss my train. The train missed me and I’m not sure why it’s better to phrase it that way. So, we walked slowly, the girl and I, and the old man leading our measured descent - I accepted it and it was perfect.

Then, suddenly, a man’s voice fires off directly behind me. “Come on, mother f-k-r!!! Hurry the f-k up!!!!” And that’s his version of perfect. I can feel his angry breath blowing through my hair.

At first I resisted and thought about the things I’d say to the gentleman.

“Hey, don’t you know you’re gonnuh die someday? What’s the point of that? Would you talk to your Grandpa that way?”

And I smiled, because I knew I already had all the versions of this guy’s answers.

In response to the question about his Grandfather he would reply, “Yeah. My Granpa beat me. Shut the f-k up.”

But the conversation wouldn’t get so far along. The interrogation wouldn’t get past my first question, the one about dying. It’s a question I like to think of as an enlightened response to the ridiculousness of people in my life. I think it, say it and text it as if it’s the only answer - well, an answer in the form of a question. “With this handful of words I will crack your reality open to the truth of everything. You will love and cry and understand. Remember me. My name is Ned and I’ve changed your life.” Yeah. Of course, in reality, the man behind me on the stairs would assume I was instead threatening his life, he would pull a gun out from his yellow and gold billowing sweater covered in cartoon skulls, and shoot me in the chest.

I also imagined abruptly turning on the stairs to face him, total physical confrontation, to which his response would be to push me down the stairs onto my head.

So, instead of taking any action, instead of changing this guy’s life forever, I opted for quiet smiling and let the whole thing be perfect.