2003-04-03 - 11:06 a.m.
Look, I don�t understand what all this fuss is about. I�m not a bad guy. I�m a family man. I live the American Dream- two cars, two kids, and a mortgage in the suburbs, and I go to the office every day to pay for it all while my wife sits around watching TV all day. I�m a good man. I don�t drink. I don�t smoke. I buy Girl Scout cookies every year, and I don�t hit my kids, unless they have it coming, like the other day when I caught Billy trying to sneak a rap album into the house. I won�t tolerate that �music�- it leads to all kinds of drug use and school shootings and other kinds of violence, and by God, any son of mine will be better than that.
Yes, I am a religious man. I go to church every Sunday to cleanse myself of my sins, unless something comes up at the office. I�ve read the Bible. Most of it. And I try to live by what it says. Hell, I don�t even park in the handicapped space at the parking lot unless I�m in a really big hurry. Like this one time, I was headed home from another late night at the office when I remembered that it was the wife and my anniversary that day. Well, Walgreen�s closes at 1, so I only had a couple minutes to run in and pick something up, hence parking in the handicapped space. It all worked out, though. I was able to get in, grab a box of chocolates or something, and zip out before anyone else needed the space. And hey, at least I remembered the anniversary, right?
So, ok, I confess- I was a little on edge that day. You would be too, if you were me, having to take the subway home because your car is in the shop, having to work eight long hours on the hottest day of the year, sweating like a pig and having to wait on that stinking, urine soaked subway platform for a half-hour because the train is late, as usual. So I was a little irritated.
And I was just minding my business when he came up to me. You understand, right? I mean, yeah, he walked with that limp, but he could have been faking. They do that sort of thing, you know. And then he just comes and stands in front of me, and gets right in my face, I mean, less than three feet from me. What the hell was that all about? And he�s spouting this crap about, �Could you spare a quarter?� and the usual, �I haven�t eaten in days.� God, I hate it when people beg me for money. Get a shower and a job. It�s not my fault they�re lazy. And it�s not like I don�t care. I give at the office, and occasionally at church. I�m a good person, really.
Then he started coming closer, and I was scared. I�m not racist or anything, but he was black. Sure, everyone tells me now that he was probably just trying to get by me, but how was I supposed to know he didn�t have a knife? So I gave him a shove to get him away from me. It�s what anyone would have done, right? So why did everyone look at me like that when he landed on the tracks? For God�s sake, he was practically assaulting me. I guess that�s about when the train came roaring through.
It wasn�t my fault, though.
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