The Curmudgeon Report
Sep. 14th, 2009 05:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elfsHave I always been a curmudgeon?
This morning, on the way into work, a man was sitting on the train across from me, reading from the Bible. The Book of Psalms, more precisely, although I couldn't tell you where he was.
Aloud.
He was dressed in a black linen suit and had rings on all of his fingers. He wasn't preacher loud, or evangelist loud, just... aloud. It was kinda annoying in an oversharing kind of way. Headphones drowned him out, but I resented the necessity. Music should be a treat and a setter of mood. Using it as a barrier feels wrong.
I got to my destination only to realize that my bicycle lock had fallen off somewhere. I'm not sure where. The plastic piece that holds the lock to the bicycle had broken off.
This afternoon, as I rode my bicycle to the train station from the "office," (I'll keep putting quotes around that until we start making money), I passed a pair of young people, early 20s maybe, as as I did so the young woman of the pair bent over and vomited electric green all over the sidewalk. Lovely. Then she walked on as if nothing had happened.
She had the temerity to ask me for "spare change." I thought, Young lady, you just threw up on a sidewalk maintained with my taxes. I refuse to contribute to whatever habits you have.. I just told her the truth: "I don't carry money with me."
Getting off the train, I had to take my bike off the proided bike mount. There are a pair of seats across from it, and in them was a man about my age and a young girl about Kouryou-chan's. He looked up at me, bleary-eyed, and gestured. "Go on, get off," he said. He sounded slightly belligerent, but so very drunk he couldn't follow through. I said I'd like for them to get off first, so I can take my bike off the mount without risking hitting the little girl with it. "Okay, okay," he said, and unsteadily stood. The little girl took his hand and led him off the train. As she left, she glanced back at me with that look of deep apology only children can make for their parents.
This morning, on the way into work, a man was sitting on the train across from me, reading from the Bible. The Book of Psalms, more precisely, although I couldn't tell you where he was.
Aloud.
He was dressed in a black linen suit and had rings on all of his fingers. He wasn't preacher loud, or evangelist loud, just... aloud. It was kinda annoying in an oversharing kind of way. Headphones drowned him out, but I resented the necessity. Music should be a treat and a setter of mood. Using it as a barrier feels wrong.
I got to my destination only to realize that my bicycle lock had fallen off somewhere. I'm not sure where. The plastic piece that holds the lock to the bicycle had broken off.
This afternoon, as I rode my bicycle to the train station from the "office," (I'll keep putting quotes around that until we start making money), I passed a pair of young people, early 20s maybe, as as I did so the young woman of the pair bent over and vomited electric green all over the sidewalk. Lovely. Then she walked on as if nothing had happened.
She had the temerity to ask me for "spare change." I thought, Young lady, you just threw up on a sidewalk maintained with my taxes. I refuse to contribute to whatever habits you have.. I just told her the truth: "I don't carry money with me."
Getting off the train, I had to take my bike off the proided bike mount. There are a pair of seats across from it, and in them was a man about my age and a young girl about Kouryou-chan's. He looked up at me, bleary-eyed, and gestured. "Go on, get off," he said. He sounded slightly belligerent, but so very drunk he couldn't follow through. I said I'd like for them to get off first, so I can take my bike off the mount without risking hitting the little girl with it. "Okay, okay," he said, and unsteadily stood. The little girl took his hand and led him off the train. As she left, she glanced back at me with that look of deep apology only children can make for their parents.
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no subject
Date: 2009-09-15 03:48 am (UTC)I prefer the more humanitarian gesture: You don't need spare change. You need *help*. Help I cannot possibly give. And ultimately, only you can help yourself. Narcotics Anonymous might help though, if you even wanted their help that is.
Usually this comes out as "Sorry, I don't have any" - which is sometimes true - or nothing at all. These are pretty automatic responses. Someday it may actually come out as "Sorry, I can't help you".
no subject
Date: 2009-09-15 05:27 am (UTC)As for the drunk man, I would have called 911. He's putting his daughter in danger by not being capable of even taking care of himself, let alone his 9 year old daughter.
no subject
Date: 2009-09-18 03:34 am (UTC)