King George
My new job at the Heart Foundation employs me between the hours of 9 and 3. Now, this cuts out on my lunchtime escapades with friends since I have only a 30-minute lunch so I've taken to making after work dates. It would be silly of me to take the train home, bustle around for an hour, then make my way back into the city for hangout dates, so I have been spending excesses of time wandering around in the city lately. On Tuesday, Marcus and I made an in-the-city dinner date and thus after three I was to be found shuffling my feet up to Hyde Park. Hyde Park is the big inner-city park that spans between two railway stations and it's where I used to go for lunches on sunny days back when I worked for the Uniting Church. On one of those lunch days, a few friends related their "other side of Hyde Park" stories and told about the crazies they had met just yonder the water fountain in the center of the park. I sort of brushed it off, not giving this hypothesis much credibility, yet always wondered if the other side of the park was crazier.
There's another pretty little fountain on the "other side" of the park that I pass every day on my way to the Heart Foundation. It's surrounded by brightly colored flowers, a few benches, and a trellis with climbing flowers. A lovely little spot that had been striking my fancy to and from the train station, so on this particular day I decided to make my way in there to sit for a while. I approached the fountain and discovered a little group of wannabe models and photographers. I mean, maybe they were in fact professionals, but the clothes were less than impressive and the girls seemed more self-important than I thought models would be. My guess is that they were rich little girls out spending daddy's money on their senior pictures. Regardless of why they were there, I found it incredibly amusing and I sat and watched the girls strike their "I'm so beautiful" poses while text messaging a friend. While my eyes were fixed on the phone, I heard but wasn't paying attention to some local crazy yelling and cursing his way through the park. That is, until he sidled up to my bench, sat down next to me and told me to put away my phone. Okaaaay. I looked up to find a scary-looking, wonky-eyed homeless man who introduced himself as King George (which happened to be the name on a plaque just to our left) and then he put his arm around me and told me what a pretty little thing I was. I immediately stood up and took a few paces away from the bench, whereupon King George stood up with me, walked after me and said, "Where are you going?!" He put his arm around me again and telling me how pretty I was (while photographers and models all herded away from me--gee, thanks for the help, guys) and I booked it. He started yelling some obscenities that I blocked from recognition and I kept looking back to make sure I wasn't being pursued until I got completely to the other side of the park. Which is the "safety" place where I used to have those lunches and talk about the crazies on the other side of the park. I think I'll add my story to the "other side" of the park crazy stories...
It wasn't enough to see him just once, either. I knew, I just knew I would see him again later that day. Sure enough, as I was walking to meet up with Marcus before dinner I saw some crazy yelling in the face of some random biker. It was King George. Again. And crazies always seem scarier at night. As soon as I saw him, I walked quickly away and removed my not inconspicuous orange jacket to attract less attention in my general direction. I was lucky enough and got away unscathed, but I'm much more weary of the mentally unstable individuals who thread through the city clearing paths as they go.
But I do find myself wondering. I imagined how a particular friend of mine would act in a similar situation. This friend used to attract all manner of strange people and was almost fearless and reacted very logically in what would be to me scary situations. This friend, once upon a time after a late-night lab at UW, decided to walk home through the alley-way of the Ave. The Ave is a scary enough place in and of itself full of crazies during teh day and I remember a frightening night spent walking past a group of drunken, brawling homeless people thinking I would try to avoid walking there at night forever after. Anyway, this friend of mine decided to walk in the alley way and, surprise, surprise, got mugged. She recounted the story to me a few days after, not wanting to make a big deal of it, and she said a guy had come out with a knife and asked for her bag. She very calmly threw it over to him, waited till he was done rifling then asked for her bag back and walked away. Very cool, very calm. She doesn't react in stressful situations, but instead tries to logically work her way through it. Emotions? In check. She has maybe the highest threshold for stress that I've ever witnessed. So I tried to imagine her in my place, being approached by King George. I think she would have laughed inside, and then proceeded to have a conversation with his majesty. She would ask how he's doing. She would respond to his assertions that she's a "sweet little thing" by asking why he thinks that, then ever so amusedly (though that would not be apparent to the king) respond that she was not in fact a sweet little thing. She would try to involve this man in conversation, all the while trying to keep him calm, and try to figure out more about him to satisfy her curiosity. Not one of her feathers would be ruffled.
I, on the other hand, felt my emotions and instincts go through the roof and every fiber in my being screamed, "Run away, run away!" Naturally, I listen to these instincts and I quickly removed myself from the situation. After these kinds of things happen, though, I do end up wondering if I handled the situation in the best way possible. I've never been seriously harmed, so I guess that's the best possible scenario. But would it have helped that person to have a sane person to talk to? Hmm. I also end up wondering if I'm so sheltered that I'm labeling this person "crazy" without giving it a second thought. Am I prejudiced or ignorant? The fact that I'm questioning it makes me believe that I'm not. I don't know.
On a more positive note, yesterday I was the recipient of a small act of kindness. Well, two, really. There's this little bakery just around the corner from the HF offices and I dropped in there earlier this week to pick up catering for a meeting. The baked goods all looked so tasty, but not in that they were all identical to one another, but quite on the contrary. There were rows of carrot cake rounds, each slightly different in height lending an uneven and rustic quality to them. Same with the strawberry tarts (some of whose little rounded edges were a little broken) and the lemon meringues (whose tops were all uniquely browned). I couldn't wait to go back to get something for myself. Yesterday I went back in to pick up a little chocolate something for myself. The same guy who had been working the first time I went in was working again and we chatted about our first days on a new job (it was a new job for him, too), and about baked goods and cafe-owning (he'd had his own cafe but it went under). I mentioned my cookie-making and he said if I brought some in he'd sell them for me, but instead I asked if they would give me a little bit of critique. Agreed. Yay! A little chocolate mousse cake ended up being my final decision, and he slipped in a little lemon meringue tart with it. I rustled around in my purse for change, but came up short so tried paying with my $50 bill. He pushed away my bill, took my change, and I walked away with a little slice of heaven. Contented sigh...
Up and down and all around.
There's another pretty little fountain on the "other side" of the park that I pass every day on my way to the Heart Foundation. It's surrounded by brightly colored flowers, a few benches, and a trellis with climbing flowers. A lovely little spot that had been striking my fancy to and from the train station, so on this particular day I decided to make my way in there to sit for a while. I approached the fountain and discovered a little group of wannabe models and photographers. I mean, maybe they were in fact professionals, but the clothes were less than impressive and the girls seemed more self-important than I thought models would be. My guess is that they were rich little girls out spending daddy's money on their senior pictures. Regardless of why they were there, I found it incredibly amusing and I sat and watched the girls strike their "I'm so beautiful" poses while text messaging a friend. While my eyes were fixed on the phone, I heard but wasn't paying attention to some local crazy yelling and cursing his way through the park. That is, until he sidled up to my bench, sat down next to me and told me to put away my phone. Okaaaay. I looked up to find a scary-looking, wonky-eyed homeless man who introduced himself as King George (which happened to be the name on a plaque just to our left) and then he put his arm around me and told me what a pretty little thing I was. I immediately stood up and took a few paces away from the bench, whereupon King George stood up with me, walked after me and said, "Where are you going?!" He put his arm around me again and telling me how pretty I was (while photographers and models all herded away from me--gee, thanks for the help, guys) and I booked it. He started yelling some obscenities that I blocked from recognition and I kept looking back to make sure I wasn't being pursued until I got completely to the other side of the park. Which is the "safety" place where I used to have those lunches and talk about the crazies on the other side of the park. I think I'll add my story to the "other side" of the park crazy stories...
It wasn't enough to see him just once, either. I knew, I just knew I would see him again later that day. Sure enough, as I was walking to meet up with Marcus before dinner I saw some crazy yelling in the face of some random biker. It was King George. Again. And crazies always seem scarier at night. As soon as I saw him, I walked quickly away and removed my not inconspicuous orange jacket to attract less attention in my general direction. I was lucky enough and got away unscathed, but I'm much more weary of the mentally unstable individuals who thread through the city clearing paths as they go.
But I do find myself wondering. I imagined how a particular friend of mine would act in a similar situation. This friend used to attract all manner of strange people and was almost fearless and reacted very logically in what would be to me scary situations. This friend, once upon a time after a late-night lab at UW, decided to walk home through the alley-way of the Ave. The Ave is a scary enough place in and of itself full of crazies during teh day and I remember a frightening night spent walking past a group of drunken, brawling homeless people thinking I would try to avoid walking there at night forever after. Anyway, this friend of mine decided to walk in the alley way and, surprise, surprise, got mugged. She recounted the story to me a few days after, not wanting to make a big deal of it, and she said a guy had come out with a knife and asked for her bag. She very calmly threw it over to him, waited till he was done rifling then asked for her bag back and walked away. Very cool, very calm. She doesn't react in stressful situations, but instead tries to logically work her way through it. Emotions? In check. She has maybe the highest threshold for stress that I've ever witnessed. So I tried to imagine her in my place, being approached by King George. I think she would have laughed inside, and then proceeded to have a conversation with his majesty. She would ask how he's doing. She would respond to his assertions that she's a "sweet little thing" by asking why he thinks that, then ever so amusedly (though that would not be apparent to the king) respond that she was not in fact a sweet little thing. She would try to involve this man in conversation, all the while trying to keep him calm, and try to figure out more about him to satisfy her curiosity. Not one of her feathers would be ruffled.
I, on the other hand, felt my emotions and instincts go through the roof and every fiber in my being screamed, "Run away, run away!" Naturally, I listen to these instincts and I quickly removed myself from the situation. After these kinds of things happen, though, I do end up wondering if I handled the situation in the best way possible. I've never been seriously harmed, so I guess that's the best possible scenario. But would it have helped that person to have a sane person to talk to? Hmm. I also end up wondering if I'm so sheltered that I'm labeling this person "crazy" without giving it a second thought. Am I prejudiced or ignorant? The fact that I'm questioning it makes me believe that I'm not. I don't know.
On a more positive note, yesterday I was the recipient of a small act of kindness. Well, two, really. There's this little bakery just around the corner from the HF offices and I dropped in there earlier this week to pick up catering for a meeting. The baked goods all looked so tasty, but not in that they were all identical to one another, but quite on the contrary. There were rows of carrot cake rounds, each slightly different in height lending an uneven and rustic quality to them. Same with the strawberry tarts (some of whose little rounded edges were a little broken) and the lemon meringues (whose tops were all uniquely browned). I couldn't wait to go back to get something for myself. Yesterday I went back in to pick up a little chocolate something for myself. The same guy who had been working the first time I went in was working again and we chatted about our first days on a new job (it was a new job for him, too), and about baked goods and cafe-owning (he'd had his own cafe but it went under). I mentioned my cookie-making and he said if I brought some in he'd sell them for me, but instead I asked if they would give me a little bit of critique. Agreed. Yay! A little chocolate mousse cake ended up being my final decision, and he slipped in a little lemon meringue tart with it. I rustled around in my purse for change, but came up short so tried paying with my $50 bill. He pushed away my bill, took my change, and I walked away with a little slice of heaven. Contented sigh...
Up and down and all around.
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