Yesterday was one of those strange sorts of days that I felt like I was just kind of hovering all day, you know? I never felt that I was actually "there", but kind of standing two feet above myself, observing things.
It started rather simply on my train ride to work. I came across these three women from Omaha (they reminded me of my mom) who were out on the town and trying to figure out where they were going. Normally, I mind my own business, but this time I interceded. I asked the ladies where they were headed and gave them the necessary instructions on getting there. We made some small talk and I told them I worked at the Hershey Store and they decided that was definitely going to be a stop on their sightseeing day.
The train engineer announced that there was a blockade of trains ahead of us, but as I was hovering, it didn't phase me much. I made it to my destination on time and started to work. In an unusual turn of events, I didn't hate my job that day. The entire Bake Shoppe was understocked and understaffed, yet I went about my business as if everything was fine.
I hovered through my day. I noticed a guy who looked like a friend of mine (but wasn't) and immediately afterwards I noticed an actual friend of mine. I went to lunch. Several hours later, I saw that same guy again. I know it was him because I asked. Then, in short order, those three women from the train came in and said hello to me. That should've surprised me, but it didn't. I wasn't there. I was hovering two feet above.
Work ended and for once I was not complaining. It was just one of those really weird days. See, it was Saturday and I was going to go to mass at Holy Name Cathedral right around the corner, but it didn't start for another hour and 15 minutes. So I sat in the park under the shadow of the old pumping station, trying to figure out my Sudoku puzzle of the day when one of the free trolleys pulled up to a stop. Nothing unusual there. I was sitting near the beginning of its route, right at the loading site. Two big, bald, bodybuilder-type men got of the trolley, and behind them were two young, scrawny, black men. I hadn't paid much attention when they first stepped off the train, but when I had looked up from my puzzle, I saw one of the scrawny guys start to pull on the shoulder of the larger of the two body-builders. I wondered what was going on. Perhaps the two big guys were chaperones on some sort of field trip and the two younger guys were part of the field trip. It appeared to me that the scrawny guy was trying to start something, but the way the big guy handled it, it seemed as if there would be no engaging him in a fight. (Judging by the size of the two big guys, they could have crushed the two other guys, me, my Sudoku puzzle, and the trolley in a single squeeze.)
The scrawny guy tried again, this time managing to get the big guy to turn around. The big guy, maintaining a level head about him (knowing that one punch and the kid would be dead), grabbed the scrawny guy and threw him backwards like a pillow. The scrawny guy stumbled and stepped into the fountain, soaking his shoe; that only made him madder. This time, with a crowd now gathering, he charged and the big guy and tried to overpower him. Dumb move. The big guy turned him and once again pushed him into the fountain, this time fully.
I should mention that I was sitting less than ten feet from the action at its heaviest and as I continued to hover two feet above, I felt that the guy seated in my chair ought to move. But I didn't.
The two big men must have pretty much thought that this ended things. Maybe the scrawny guy just needed to cool off, literally. The headed toward the street and away from me. Before they got too far, though, the wet, scrawny guy ran over and tried to pick up the chair (two down from me!) but with no luck. (Fortunately, the chairs are bolted to the ground.) He tore off his wet shirt and threw it on the ground as the dry scrawny one began to antagonize him. Not only had he been tossed in the fountain, but the good name of--oh, let's call him "Delbert Tinley"--had been tarnished among friends! This simply would not do. Delbert and friend took off after the two muscle guys.
I remember thinking that they were getting awful close to the street and I was certain that someone in the party was to be thrown in it, perhaps as a bus drove by. I felt a sense of duty, as if had to follow the action to be sure to be a credible witness should something further happen. Cowardice, and naivete, got the better of me. Or maybe it was my own good sense. I'm not sure. I thought surely the two muscle men would find a police officer or something to curb any future plans of violence. But it wasn't my business. And even if it was, I could be hurt.
Still seated, I went back to my puzzle and tried to focus. From time to time I would look up and around at my surroundings, but I never had a sense I was actually seated there. I saw people walking toward me but looking in the opposite direction (like you do when you've just walked away from a beating-in-progress, perhaps) and before too long, I witnessed the return of a shirtless Delbert Tinley and party, Delbert raising a milk crate above his head. They were trash talking, and though it sounded like it was only talk. Delbert dropped the milk crate and as he came closer, picked up his previously abandoned wet shirt. I kept my gaze on them. What I had missed when they had gotten off of the Trolley was that they had taken off their jackets and backpacks and whatnot and laid them on the ground. Now they were putting them back on. They didn't seem to be in much of a hurry, and they strolled around the corner, out of site.
Moments later a siren pierced the din of Saturday shoppers. I watched as an ambulance stopped right across the street from where I had been seated this whole time and my sense of duty called me once more. This time I answered, and walked toward the ambulance to see if my suspicions were well founded. They were.
The bigger muscle guy had a huge cut on his head and was being escorted into the ambulance. The smaller muscle man had a few gouges in his arm, but was not interested in treatment. I got his attention and told him that I saw the whole beginning part of the thing and would be willing to help him in whatever way I could. I asked him what happened. The guys ambushed his buddy with a milk crate, he said. (I could tell now that the man was a foreigner. Swedish, perhaps. European definitely.) Luckily there were plenty of witnesses to the actual beating that were willing to help. We gave the police our numbers and I went further to describe what they were wearing afterwards. I even knew the location of the milk crate.
The cop thanked me (as did Little Big Horn, I'll call him) and I went back to my seat in the park. There was still plenty of time before church, oddly. As I walked back, my sense of duty struck me once more. I decided to take a walk around and see if I could see those scrawny guys, since apparently I was the only one who could
really identify them. After a few blocks, the thought occurred to me that they probably had taken the train and were, by now, far away. Seemed logical.
Then the next logical thought hit me. "They always return to the scene of the crime." That's what they say, anyway. And as it manifested itself in my brain, I decided to walk back and keep an eye on the milk crate. If they have any sense at all, they'll come back for that milk crate. So I waited. And I waited. And I took a picture of some strangers (their idea, their camera). And I waited. Then I decided it was time for me to head toward the church. I walked down the hill toward the fountain as a trolley pulled up. Most of the passengers got off. Two didn't. As I peered into the trolley, I could see it was the two scrawny guys!
I quickly got on my phone and called 9-1-1 and told them of the situation. I described the scrawny guys, their victims, the crime, my part in it all, the trolley and everything else I knew on the matter. They said they would dispatch someone right away.
The trolley doors closed and it began its route. It took a quick turn to travel south on Michigan Avenue and went about five blocks before being pulled over. Barricaded is more like it. I watched the whole thing from where I was. And when I finally caught my bearings, I noticed those three women from Omaha! There they were, again!
I began to recount the tale to them...the short version (don't you wish you were them right now), all the while watching the trolley. Then I backed up too far and tripped on a ledge and into the bushes. No sooner had I felt a certain kind of heroic than I felt a certain kind of clutz!
I walked the ladies to their train on my way to church and afterwards I took the train home myself. Again I sat doing my Sudoku puzzle. When I looked up, I noticed a family to whom I had given a free cupcake earlier in the day. We talked a little bit and then drifted back to silence, I to my puzzle. From the corner of my eye, I saw the father pick up some scraps of napkins off the floor and give them to the stranger standing two feet to my left. I couldn't figure out why until I looked down at her feet. While I was entranced in my puzzle, she had vomited...nearly on me!
I hovered all the way back home and as I walked up the path to my door, I saw a cardinal sitting on my front step. He flew away as I got close, but I noted how unusual it was.
There was many more hours to my day, but not much of consequence. I must have hovered around all night long. In the morning, as I came out of my house to go to work, just off the front step was a bird, though not a cardinal. I nearly stepped on it and then stepped around it to get to my car. It was a usual day and I was annoyed by most things. One customer asked for a band-aid and some antibiotic cream because she'd been bitten by a horse. Yes, a horse! When I came home, that bird from my front step was dead. Now I'm here, trying not to hover.
