Max in his “hot” pink shorts.
The other day I was riding the subway home with Max. We were getting off the train and he tripped walking towards the stairs. I stopped, but waiting for him to pick himself up. We’d been in the city all day walking and it was around 2:30pm, so when I saw little tears forming, I knew it was because he was just utterly exhausted. I went to take his hand and help him walk down the stairs when the man behind me yelled, “pick that kid up! Stop being an asshole!”
Listen, I hear a lot of things come out of people’s mouths in this city – but this one caught me by surprise. Was this guy seriously calling me an asshole parent because my son was walking himself down the stairs and going slower than the man wanted him to? I glared at him, assessing the situation. He looked like a Yinzer – cut off sleeves, jean shorts, raspy smoker voice and tattoos. I paused and stared him down – “did you just call me an asshole?”
He got angrier. “And who dresses a boy in hot pink shorts? You’re such an asshole! Keep walking!”
I replied, “maybe you should keep walking, asshole – to the employment office.” He proceeded to give me the finger (I haven’t seen that response in a while!) and follow me a block yelling until I walked into the bank.
Now, let’s reflect – this is basically an every day occurrence in New York City. Someone yells, someone yells back. It’s like common street banter for us locals. But I’ll be honest. I sized this guy up first and he looked harmless. He was calling out a mother in public in front of lots of other New Yorkers, so I figured if anything, someone would most likely come to my aid if he took it to a physical level. New Yorkers are known to be angry – so as I sit here writing this, I laugh. But – in today’s world – is it really funny anymore? For a split second I thought – what if this guy pulls out a gun and shoots me as I’m holding my son when I turn my back.
I’ve always been on the tougher side. It takes a lot to rattle me. Common situations that would worry or scare average people make me puff up and defend. When it comes to fight or flight – I always end of the side of fight. I grew up a only child on a farm raised by uncles and a grandpa who fought in WWII. I never had a chance to be soft. When I lived in Pittsburgh, I had the reputation of “the yell voice.”
Thing is – if you know me – I’m like a snake – I only strike when provoked. If you call me an asshole in front of my child, I’m not going to take that lightly.
But my question is – when did we become a nation of people who are so angry? When did a small child tripping on the subway platform cause someone who was obviously in a rush to get no where get so mad that he could actually call the mom an asshole? The New Yorker in me says let it go because, as I said, we have run-ins everyday. Most people would have cowered away and been afraid of what this man could do – but not me. I always stand my ground, but should we live in fear anymore to do so?
Listen, the world can be a beautiful and ugly place at the exact same time. If I was afraid to live in fear, I wouldn’t live in New York City. I don’t wake up worried to take the train that it could be bombed. It could, and don’t think every single one of us 8 million New Yorkers don’t know that – but if we thought about it – none of us would go to work.
I don’t mind the banter – it gives color to the city we live in, but I just hope others have the audacity to laugh about it and brush it off in a blog post like I do, and not let that shit build up and consume you. That’s when the hate and anger start to stem. This guy obviously was having a bad day. Maybe I should start carrying around little rainbow carnations to pass out for instances like this – how could you not retract the asshole comment from someone who handed you a happy little flower? Now THAT’S funny.
As for Max, am I concerned that he witnessed this? No. Why would I be? This is what they refer to as life. Things happen and how you react to them is most important. There will always be times in his life when people will make fun of him for wearing “hot pink shorts” or yell or make fun of him for falling down. I want him to know that it’s not his fault – that he’s cool, and mom will always have his back and pick him up when he really needs it. And when people judge – stand your ground. Don’t live in fear or feel inferior because they decide to be vocal in a crowd. But most importantly, learn the lesson, laugh about it, and move on. Save the story for telling over a campfire one night – “the day some guy called my mom an asshole for putting me in pink shorts” has a good ring to it.
