Not writing about a date-encounter, but I could be …
Everywhere our eyes roam – everyone we meet, or watch walking along. Across our table, the next table, or going down the street, we are all judges. No courtrooms. No rules of evidence. Jury is not out – no deliberating. We’ve rushed to judgement so fast Malcolm Gladwell would blink. Gut reactions, likely far-wrong. Truth escapes scrutiny.
Wondering, was my imagining ‘fiction writer conjuring plot mode’ or ordinary person over-reacting due to recent bad-news media saturation?
He looked middle-eastern. Bearded, head covered – overweight. Intense. Intent? Bad guy?
Last night, people watching on busy 17th Avenue, waiting for traffic to slow so I could ease into the flow. A man, probably homeless, walked by. Several things struck me. Grubby, unkempt. Scruffy hair, many-days beard. Dirty coat. Not pushing a shopping cart, pulling a wheeled suitcase. Bulging. Perhaps all his worldly goods? Or scavenged cans and bottles, on his way to redeem them? Making his way home on foot from the Greyhound station? Terrorist bomber who might leave that suitcase outside some restaurant? Many thoughts – homeless man to terrorist bomber or ‘but for a few right/wrong moves, could be me’, we all wander around.
We watchers. And the watched.
This morning it makes so much sense. Rather than pushing a shopping cart through snow, he pulls a suitcase. Efficient, energy saving, clever. Of course, that must be it. Or was he just a sad guy who couldn’t afford a cab ride from the bus station? Or did his wife toss him out?
Chances I’m wrong?
We all are.
written / published from Calgary, AB
morning walk: -1C/31F, more melt coming – yay! Gusta enjoying the by-product on yesterday’s melt, exposing smelly morels for tasting. Like a doggy tapas menu. Great stroll …
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