Observed in the El Cerrito Peets at 7:30 in the morning
by zunguzungu
A drunk or confused latino guy — of fairly small stature — was wandering around, sometimes standing in line, sometimes not. He was muttering to himself a little, but mostly he was just watching the floor, vaguely. Apparently he said something “offensive in front of a lady” because the tall blonde uber-California looking guy in front of him turned around and ordered him out of the store. Repeatedly. The littler guy failed to apparently comprehend, so the taller guy continued to shout at him, demanding that he go outside and say it again. This went on. And on. The tall guy demanded that the counterwoman call the police, without explaining why. But the power of the littler guy’s blithe obliviousness — inoffensively muttering without any real sense that he understood what was going on — began to display its devastating power. Something was on the line, but not for him.
Finally, the tall guy went outside, saying he would wait for him there. The smaller guy didn’t seem to register much interest in the prospect. But several minutes later, he too wandered outside. The tall guy was nowhere to be seen. I watched the little guy weave his way down the street until I, too, lost interest.
This is exactly why I pick on people smaller than me and then run away: great blogging stories.
Reminds me of this:
And, as the shades of the second evening came on, I grew wearied unto death, and, stopping fully in front of the wanderer, gazed at him steadfastly in the face. He noticed me not, but resumed his solemn walk, while I, ceasing to follow, remained absorbed in contemplation. “This old man,” I said at length, “is the type and the genius of deep crime. He refused to be alone. He is the man of the crowd. It will be in vain to follow; for I shall learn n more of him, nor of his deeds. The worst heart of the world is a grosser book than the ‘Hortulus Animae,’ and perhaps it is but one of the great mercies of God that ‘es lasst sich nicht lessen.’”