What Would YOU Do?
Last year I promised myself that I would never say "I've had a bad day" ever again, because this one time, (not at band camp, although I have been to band camp), I once had a really bad day. That was the day I lost my job (downsized) - a job that I had grown to love. So, no day at work would ever be "bad" again, as long as I was working, could pay the bills, and keep the wine rack and kitty dishes full. I have my priorities, you see.

I slip sometimes, under stress, and have been heard grouching about my "bad, er I mean challenging" day. Last Wednesday was one of those days. It ended on a good note, though, as my colleagues and I shared a good guffaw as I rushed down the hall at 5:00 p.m. "Hey, Crabby's really leaving at five o'clock," someone called out. "I think she came in at 7:30 this morning," another colleague responded. Laughter all around. I was so happy to be out of there, in the daylight, on my way to meet a friend for martinis.

To re-cap: challenging day, bad mood turned good, going out for drinks with a friend. Still with me?

I walked by city hall on my way to meet up with my friend. About halfway through the square, I saw an adult man whack a smaller female across the head. Immediately, I thought "teenagers fooling around, what idiots." Another yard closer, though, and I saw that this was no game. She was younger than 15, and although it's hard to tell these days, I'm certain of it that. He stepped over to where she'd fallen to the pavement, yanked her arm up and dragged her another ten feet on her back. Her shirt pulled up when he dragged her, so that her bare skin was being scraped across the ground.

It's barely after 5:00 in the middle of the downtown core. Nobody, even people who were passing right in front of them stopped to help. Dozens and dozens of people passed within a few feet of where she lay crying on the ground.

I pointed to a man walking beside me. "Could you please wait for me? I want to know that someone else is watching."
"Uh, yeah, OK," he said.

I walked up to the girl and asked her if she was OK, and if she wanted me to get any help for her. She looked up at me with such hatred that I recoiled. Now, with a few days' distance, I understand that her response was generated by fear, by anger, and by embarrassment. She wanted nothing to do with me.

"Leave her alone, she's fine," an adult woman called to me from several feet away. Her mother? Maybe. I was dizzy with the idea that another woman/human being/parent could sit by and let that happen to a child.

"F*@* off you b*%@. This is none of your f'ing business," shouted the man. He started walking towards me. My recruit was still a few yards away, looking even less comfortable than when I'd asked him to wait for me. Nice to know he was there, but I was suddenly unsure that he had my back.

So I walked away.

I do not have a cell phone, and there are no public phones in front of city hall. Yes, looking back, I should have asked somebody who did have a cell phone to call the police before I charged over to her. That's what Mr. Crabby told me: get help, then go help. What would you have done?

The martinis (it took two) were delicious.