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Streets of Rage, NYC

Guy on the train is staring right at me as I type this. Grilling me, as the kids call it. He’s fidgeting, opening and closing his fist as he eyes me. The second I make eye contact, it’s on, I can feel it. Well, he’ll get what he wants. I’ll be right back… 

Back. 

It got ugly, fast. 

He won’t be starting trouble on the train anymore. He won’t be doing much of anything anymore. 

Okay, maybe there was no fight. 

For all I know the poor dude was just fired from work, and his boss looks kinda like me. I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to punch me either. I’ve been told that I have a very punchable face. 

What about the lady that cut me off in traffic a few days ago? Maybe she was rushing to a loved one’s death bed. Suddenly I’m not as offended by her doing that. 

We’re a tribal species with no real tribes, so we get possessive and defensive over stupid things. That’s probably why we have road rage, and parents brawl at youth baseball games. 

Which is a good reminder when I have a guy eyeing me on the train. It’s not me he’s looking to fight, he doesn’t even no who I am. No, he’s a poor soul losing a fight with his own demons, acting out of fear and frustration. It’s my neanderthal brain against his, and first one to snap loses. 

And mama didn’t raise no loser. 

Published inLearnthought

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