A man is honking and yelling at a car trying to go left at a busy intersection. The cars behind the chagrined man manage to skirt around the blockage, but he was too close. All he has is impotent anger while waiting for the light to change. Often his honks and shouts simply become consumed in the swell of traffic noise all around.
The sun is hot today. I can already feel the damp stains gathering where my backpack is strapped over my shoulders. The glare is intense enough to distort vision, even with sunglasses on. Perhaps it is the heat, the glare, the inability to see properly, that throws us all over the edge. A man walks toward me, pushing a shopping cart. I’m broke, so the interaction goes like this:
“Hey, excuse me. Excuse me.”
“Sorry, I don’t have any money.”
“Jesus, man, it doesn’t have to be like that, I just wanted to ask you a question.”
“Alright, what’s the question?”
“Never mind. Damn, you don’t have to be so damn judgmental. Just forget about it.”
The man pushing the shopping cart passes on, still cursing me as he does. Up ahead, nearer to the metro station, a man and a woman are arguing. Wherever it began, it has since risen to the point of both shouting at each other. It is the Id stage of the argument. All the deep chasms are about to spill over. Both of them wave their arms, then strike incredulous poses while the other counter-attacks.
A bus is approaching, but a teenager (I assume) is too far away to get there before it boards. So, he breaks into a run. Unfortunately, trying to dodge an armada of child strollers at that moment crossing the sidewalk, he bumps into a stand where two old ladies are selling jewelry and barbeque. The contents of both spill onto the ground indiscriminately, mixing with each other. There is a general outcry at this, and the kid throws a “sorry” over his shoulder as he bounds for the bus. Some members of the crowd try to give chase, but the kid gets onto the bus just as the door is closing, then gives shrugs of apology as it moves away. Three people stand there, shouting at him as he departs.
I’m about to head on my way, but a pigeon flying over poops on my head. After a brief pause to make sure I wasn’t actually in a slapstick routine, I turn around and head back to the apartment to change.