Sympathetic Outliers / October 20 2003
I was on 4th Avenue, walking past 9th St when I noticed a family of four (father, mother, son and daughter) standing outside a deli. While the father looked on, the daughter, around age seven, went up to a cab that was waiting for a passenger to get off. I'm not sure what her intention was, but I imagine she was trying to solicit money as she held a little cup in her hand.
I didn't get it.
As I walked by them, I heard glass shatter. I didn't look back—not until I heard glass shatter once more. Upon turning my head, I noticed that the father was throwing Snapple bottles at the ground by the trashcan.
I didn't get it.
I wanted to go up and ask, "Where do you live?" I wanted to tell him that this is my neighborhood, and that I didn't appreciate him littering here. I wanted to be polite as not to insult him in front of his wife and children. I wanted to be respectful and considerate. These are things, of course, that he himself did not quite understand.
So, I walked away. Sometimes, it's impossible to approach a situation rationally.
HEAVY ROTATION Impulsively, I dropped $3 on the classic Hootie & The Blowfish debut Cracked Rear View. I don't care what any of you say: It's simply one of the great memories of my adolescence.
