It is a dark, rainy night in Seattle. In fact, it has been raining, what it seems like, forever. The kind of weather when one starts questioning their life choices, profession they are in, their relationships with clients, their own mortality etc. When the mind starts working and it is hard, if not impossible, to stop it.
At 11pm. I am driving on empty streets, slowly, viewing the world around me through the intermittent swipes of the windshield wipers. Back and forth, back and forth they go; not missing a beat. In between their reliable swipes my world becomes murky and invisible. Then, as expected, it is clear again, my purpose is well defined, only to be obstructed by the next wave of these endless rain drops.
I am just waiting for the ferry, a mode of transportation so unreliable, inefficient, and antiquated that I try not to think about it anymore. I am in its clutches; it owns and directs me. I am a prisoner of a hunk of metal which floats, to my consternation, certainly.
I have taken to driving on this rainy night as my other choice of lining up with other cars and waiting for the ferry with the late travellers has become unbearable. My plan is to go to the dock when the boat arrives. I can hear its ugly horn call from where I am and drive down there in time.
My headlights illuminate the wet streets along with all of the fallen, rotting pine needles which were made homeless after the most recent storm.
All of the office towers are lit up even though the workers have gone home. Currently enveloped in fog they appear as the aging giants which are, like me, unenthusiastic and not bothered by their surroundings.
As I glide through the empty streets I spot some commotion in an alleyway. Due to a very high crime rate in Seattle all of the alleys are well lighted. It didn’t prevent two hooded individuals beating up another hooded individual. They were doing it with broomsticks and fists and were not sparing any brutality. They went full force in a fit of anger.
Not being able to withstand the sight of violence and out of some newly found, undefined feeling of social responsibility, I leapt out of the car. I left the car close to the middle of a deserted street, driver’s door open, high beams on, illuminating those steady rain drops.
My sense of social duty was overwhelming. I jumped into the fray and started hitting, throwing as many punches on the attackers as I could muster. I kicked a couple of times, my fists were hurting and one of my contact lenses slipped off the eye seriously impairing my vision. The beating victim teamed up with me. I was proud of defending a fellow human which, in turn, seemed to give me extra strength. We overwhelmed the attackers who ran away.
Then, the police arrived. One of the officers ran after the attackers. The remaining officer proceeded to arrest the victim who, it turns out, is a very well-known drug dealer.
I was scolded for leaving my car in the middle of the street and getting involved in the brawl. The police did acknowledge that it was a valiant act of bravery coupled with social responsibility and let me go. Warned me, rather ordered me, not ever to do this again. Like, ever!
I made it to the ferry with a fat lip and bloody nose. I was one of the last to board. The foghorn told the world we are on our way; going to a place where, hopefully, I won’t have to fight.
The foghorn woke me. I was a bit confused as to where I was for a moment. The warm body next to me in bed moved and she asked if I was ok. I seemed to have been kicking and muttering while sleeping.
Now, however, I had no fat lip or bloody nose. But, the previous day at work did contain a number of verbal brawls and psychological stare downs. I was safe and comfortable at, what turned out to be, 3am. I was very thirsty.
Eventually, I went back to sleep and, frankly, hoped to dream about more pleasant things.
Like, for example, going to the office in the morning. And, maybe, along the way, saving some old lady crossing the street from being hit by a bus.
by Mike Djordjevich
Address :
321 High School Road #303
Bainbridge Island
WA 98110
USA
Telephone : +1 661 645 5572
Email : mike@mdj-cpa.com
Website : http://www.mdj-cpa.com