Nah Uh, Not In My City

Did no one know what to do? Or are we, as people, just that sick that we want to see people brandish their fists against each others skulls for curiosity and enjoyment? Why are so many standing there and doing nothing? I’m disgusted. I have no patience for violence and I will not tolerate seeing it. In my words, “Nah uh, not in my city.”

Could be a little of both, uncertainty and sadism, seeing that multiple types of fighting are acceptable events that we Pay-Per-View. I have found that anything goes if you can get away with it. Isn’t that how culture is established?

Let’s backtrack and discuss bicycles in New York City. The flame that lit the fuse in this altercation.

Statistically in my experience if anyone is going to say anything to someone else where they aren’t directly involved here it is usually going to be an older, probably white woman and the subject matter will be some kind of sidewalk behavior. Strong likelihood it will involve bicycles. No one wants to get mowed down and break a hip. As you age and get wobbly I am sure it’s on your mind more.

For example, one evening I was walking the oval in the Great Lawn in Central Park because it is well lit and I can cover a fair amount of distance without straying too far from my house. There was an older woman with her seven, yes I counted them, chihuahuas. Some of which were in the baby stroller she was pushing. She seemed nice enough but even at that late hour someone cruising through the oval to shortcut to the East Side got a lecture since they did not obey the rule of walking your bicycle on the walkway.

Again, it was late, it was winter, and no one was around. Hardly a hazard. Rules are rules. It is posted. And there she went, shouting, “Walk your bicycle.” I didn’t look at her but I expect that she was wagging her right pointer finger as she said it.

Personally, as long as you are looking out not to harm others as you are doing it and can do it in a safe manner then whatever. You do you, boo boo. Last week I came around a corner and was doing the bob and weave with a dude on a bike. He glared at me like how could I be in his way repeatedly as I tried to dodge him only to get back in his way.

You can save your ugly looks, because in this instance I do not accept, you are the one riding on the sidewalk. I have the right of way because I am a ped.es.tri.an. And those rules things, you know. We both got past each other and went on our respective ways. And that is all there was to it. On to the next moment. You move on. That’s how it is here. If something needs to be communicated it is.

The magic of living in a city with so many people is you learn to coexist, to make it work, to be around and near others, to non-verbally sense what you need to do in an instance. It is part of the social contract that you know how to command your own space without infringing on others. While no one is particularly ever patient anymore universally and everyone claims to be in a rush, you do see more cooperation, goodwill, and civility than you would expect. Truthfully. If you watch you will see behaviors and acts that will surprise you, especially if you buy into it being a cold, fast, hard place where no one cares about anyone but themselves. That is until you see one bad apple that ruins it for everyone.

We had just popped off the subway a mere two stops from our house and were on our brief jaunt to Fairway for a rousing round of grocery shopping where I walk around in circles going uhhh, I don’t know what I want. Cute, huh? Subway stops tend to be perched on trafficked thoroughfares. The streets are wider and busier with cars, bus stops, pedestrians, deliveries, anything you can think of that is opposite of a quiet neighborhood street. We were passing under heavily shadowed scaffolding that hovered atop a row of restaurants. A tea place caught my eye as I am always looking for some new exciting discovery, or at least more of the same stuff that I like at other places.

Something to know about me is that I am enamored at looking at buildings, architecture, dogs, shoes, and street art but rarely at people. This is one of the top five things I point about myself in repetition. Especially in an environment like New York City where there is so much to see all at once that you cannot focus in on everything at the same time. But this is still the case for me no matter where I am. Cohabiteur tells me that someone could walk past me on fire and I would not notice. Accurate.

It is safe to say that I am unbothered with what other people do. It is unbelievably unburdening and freeing not to give a crap in that way. You should try it. It is remarkamazeable. When someone is like, oh my god, do you see what they were eating/wearing/doing my answer is nah uh and it feels great. You really have to compete hard for my attention. When something lovely happens I either miss it or Cohabiteur points it out to me after the fact or shouts “dog” so I don’t miss out. Unfortunately this was not the case today.

I have a lot of respect for the delivery bike persons that buzz around the city. I know that when I am crossing a street I should be watching out for the bike lane so I do not get filleted like a fish and become street meat myself. That is just the rules of engagement. They can and will hit you. I have seen it. And the person who got hit apologized to the cycler. Honestly there are a couple times when I was not so aware and had a close call. Also, I order a decent amount of delivery via Postmates and Seamless so I am basically forever in their gratitude. I love when food shows up at my house. Not everyone has that appreciation for the socioeconomic system and sometimes people just want to have a problem with other people. Enter gray-haired ponytail dude.

At the sound of hate filled yelling I zeroed in on the offender whipping my head to find out, “What the hell?” Nope, nope, nope, nope.

Based on the cursing and slurs I am going to draw the conclusion that the delivery guy is of Hispanic descent. The delivery guy rode his bike up the sidewalk from the street in front of the restaurant to a spot where other bicycles were chained to the scaffolding. The older, gray ponytailed white dude was not only screaming at him but trying to shove him off the bicycle and striking at it. Trying to defend himself the delivery guy attempted to stand his ground but being of smaller stature was not to his advantage. People coming and going from both directions froze making a space for the confrontation. The intensity of fists and fits of commotion escalated rapidly. The white guy was going to beat the crap out of the delivery guy no doubt. And why? Was it really for riding a moment on the sidewalk? Or for existing while not being white?

As an empath I absorb the energy of others and this was cruel, venomous spewage. When I feel this I forget to be afraid for myself and any concerns about my own safety falls away. Their ugliness fills me with strength and adrenaline. I refuse to turn away so I scream, “Hey!!!” with equal irascibility. This puts both men on pause as they turn to look at me. “Stop it” I order at them authoritatively. They are both uncertain what to do next but the aggressor pushes and then hits his opponent. More shoving ensues until the smaller guy gets a punch in and bloodies the mouth of ponytail dude to defend himself.

I am still sonorously yelling “Hey, you two” and “Stop it” which causes more hesitation from them. The delivery guy interjects that the other guy started it and Cohabituer confirmed to him that he knows and that the other guy is an idiot. This does not go over greatly but ponytail realizes people were watching now and were not on his side. For a moment it seems the aggressor may turn his attention to me. Which is fine by me because I am riled up enough for a verbal sparring and will stand my ground. Finally another gentleman initiates intervention and the aggressor turns to retreat screaming as he goes, “He shouldn’t be on the effing sidewalk with his bike” and spitting fresh blood onto the curb in his wake.

I am relieved Cohabituer does not try to interject or insert himself in these rare events. I worry more for him than I ever will myself. If someone tried to corner him it would not go well because I will protect what I love without abandon and he knows this about me.

The crowd dissipates and we continue to the store. He asks me what would have happened should that guy turn and come after me. Nothing would happen. If he did anything more than use words I would have turned and ran and if I had to I would enter one of the restaurants. As a female I am not afraid to flee and am prepared to do so perhaps earlier than a male counterpart would be. I know I cannot overpower a man. Then he inquires what if he followed me into the restaurant. Uhhh, obviously I would shriek as I scrambled to get away, “A white, male supremacist asshole is after me!!” and let New York take care of the rest I shrug off. After all, Cohabituer tells me I would have been burned at the stake if I lived a century ago, which is the hottest thing that has ever been said to me. So it is not like he can be surprised that I show who I am in these instances.

With whatever privilege I have, and I have it even if I do not understand the how or why of it, I will not witness blatant hate and let it go on. I will not stand scared and quiet. Nor will I turn away. I will not have fear to stand up for what I believe and to stand up for the kind of world I want to live in and I won’t let anyone think that kind of behavior is okay through my silence. I am glad he did not flatten me like a pancake. If he had I still wouldn’t take back anything or change how I responded. My voice will not be taken away. In my city we do not do that. Period. Not on my watch.