Once in a while I like to do something crazy. With so much thought and planning going into every cross-person encounter, I do every so often have to vent by indulging a whim that will:
1.) Make any other quasi-crimes to social decency relatively harmless by comparison therefore assuring me that I am, on most days, indistinguishable from “a normal.”
2.) Appease the one armed bandit of whims before I end up picking one like “spin the wheel; maybe the car will just do a full roll and keep on going like in the films.”
3.) Satisfy my morbid curiosity.
Chosen well it’s quite harmless as I’d otherwise just lose sleep over something else. (Was saying “hi” too forward whereas a “hey” (debatable whether or not to pronounce “’ey”) be too relaxed; almost too forward in the manner that it seems to demand a relaxed attitude? Who wants to be implicitly told to relax? I’m pretty certain it would’ve infuriated the poor woman at the supermarket counter who acknowledged me with “hi.”)
I was in a supermarket once more purchasing the supply of chicken and red bull substitutes that keeps me alive when a girl of about 17 dropped her bag, spilling books, pens and other props across the aisle. Unfortunately, no one else was around to reach her before me so I couldn’t rely on moving just slowly enough to be unnecessary.
Instead I stood my ground. Folded my arms. Shook my head with disapproval.
She dropped to the floor, sent me a questing glance. For a second I thought she was shocked at my carelessness. Indifferently she went about picking up her goods.
I watched her pick up her items one by one, fully expecting at least a muttered “prick” to escape her lips. She never said a word. Never seemed especially surprised that I didn’t help. She didn’t even seem that insulted when I tutted and stepped over her outstretched arm to get past. The purpose hadn’t been to hurt her in anyway of cause; I can get enough Schadenfreude anytime I want by watching train station platforms from a balcony.
And yet, I’ve since been mildly fascinated by her lack of reaction to what an apathetic bastard I’d been.
Had she just been in a car crash or had a mugger wrestling her to the ground I could understand. But to idly stand by and watch whilst she pick up the contents of her bag and not even call for help?
Perhaps in theUK, 2011, I’m expecting too much compassion.