I saw the strangest thing on Friday: Walking up the concrete stairs into my apartment building, I saw two men that appeared to be arguing about car damage. It seemed like there was a car accident, involving both their cars, and the man arguing more fervently was standing next to a silver, blue Volvo with two damaged headlights.
One of the men was Hispanic, maybe Mexican. He was short, had a shaved head, and a leather jacket. The other man, Mediterranean looking, a foot and a half taller, short spiky black hair, and also wearing a leather jacket. The latter was arguing with his hands violently splashing the hair, striking hard and forcefully with every point he made. Or so I assumed. I couldn't hear a word.
Then, (and this was the breaking point for me--the point where I felt that as a good citizen of the United States, it was my duty to mediate--or at least observe them from a close, awkward level so that they'd stop). Then, the taller Mediterranean looking one, grabbed a white froo-froo dog out of the other man's Hunter Green Ford Explorer. Wait a minute, I thought. Something ain't right here. From my perspective, it seemed like the taller guy was using the shorter guy's dog as some type of threat. I imagined him saying,
"If you don't pay for this fucking damage, I'm going to take your dog...fucking Mexican." And I love them dogs. And I love them Mexicans." Time to act, I thought.
So, I walked, like no big deal, over to the scene. But then something strange suddenly happened. As soon as I approached the fighting duo, they hugged. I heard a smidge of what the taller man said right before the hug, he said something like, "Sorry, I just wanted you to come down here. I was waiting by your car." Hmmm. Maybe the taller guy caused the car accident. But why then was he so mad? Did the shorter guy say he'd sue or something? Or was that the taller guy's dog already taken for ransom in the Ford Explorer.
Here's another thought: maybe they were just friends? Just two very dramatic, hand-gesturing friends. Maybe they weren't mad that whole time, but extremely extroverted and happy.
I walked slowly up the stairs to my 3rd floor apartment, trying to think it all out before telling Rick my story. I told him. His response:
"Maybe they were two gay lovers. They got in a big, flamboyant fight. And then made up as soon as you approached."
Hmmm. That could be true, too. Regardless, something that adds to this mystery, is that the taller man got into the car with the shorter man, and they drove off. Gone. Mexican music was singing as the car door opened. Everything seemed much more calm than before. Were they strangers on their way to the mechanic? Were they friends who were happy the whole time and I just didn't catch it because Americans don't gesture as passionately unless they're upset? Or were they two lovers making up after a heated argument? Who knows.
But it makes for a really good story.
One of the men was Hispanic, maybe Mexican. He was short, had a shaved head, and a leather jacket. The other man, Mediterranean looking, a foot and a half taller, short spiky black hair, and also wearing a leather jacket. The latter was arguing with his hands violently splashing the hair, striking hard and forcefully with every point he made. Or so I assumed. I couldn't hear a word.
Then, (and this was the breaking point for me--the point where I felt that as a good citizen of the United States, it was my duty to mediate--or at least observe them from a close, awkward level so that they'd stop). Then, the taller Mediterranean looking one, grabbed a white froo-froo dog out of the other man's Hunter Green Ford Explorer. Wait a minute, I thought. Something ain't right here. From my perspective, it seemed like the taller guy was using the shorter guy's dog as some type of threat. I imagined him saying,
"If you don't pay for this fucking damage, I'm going to take your dog...fucking Mexican." And I love them dogs. And I love them Mexicans." Time to act, I thought.
So, I walked, like no big deal, over to the scene. But then something strange suddenly happened. As soon as I approached the fighting duo, they hugged. I heard a smidge of what the taller man said right before the hug, he said something like, "Sorry, I just wanted you to come down here. I was waiting by your car." Hmmm. Maybe the taller guy caused the car accident. But why then was he so mad? Did the shorter guy say he'd sue or something? Or was that the taller guy's dog already taken for ransom in the Ford Explorer.
Here's another thought: maybe they were just friends? Just two very dramatic, hand-gesturing friends. Maybe they weren't mad that whole time, but extremely extroverted and happy.
I walked slowly up the stairs to my 3rd floor apartment, trying to think it all out before telling Rick my story. I told him. His response:
"Maybe they were two gay lovers. They got in a big, flamboyant fight. And then made up as soon as you approached."
Hmmm. That could be true, too. Regardless, something that adds to this mystery, is that the taller man got into the car with the shorter man, and they drove off. Gone. Mexican music was singing as the car door opened. Everything seemed much more calm than before. Were they strangers on their way to the mechanic? Were they friends who were happy the whole time and I just didn't catch it because Americans don't gesture as passionately unless they're upset? Or were they two lovers making up after a heated argument? Who knows.
But it makes for a really good story.
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