Today was the 14th day of an idea that will take me 30 days to complete. In a nutshell, my task is to perform at least one act of kindness for someone else at least one time a day, and the act must push me outside of my comfort zone.
Went cruising with Superman today. He needed help with his cape, and so we used a trusty paper clip to keep it from dragging on the ground. He was pleased, and I was happy to feel sort of like MacGyver ... in my own little way.
He looked at his cape in the mirror like 7 times.
My plan was to go to Newport on the Levy. Wanted to purchase a book with no words it in, thinking that I'd have other people fill-it-in later. Surprising, how much books with no words cost. Almost like the words are free when you compare the price of a book with "no words" to a book "with words."
On the way to Newport, I see two men fighting on Queen City Avenue. I'm on the phone at the time with someone who puts words in books, and I say, "There's two guys fighting!"
It bothered me. Not sure right now why it did. Turned around at the UDF close to Sunset Avenue. Really, the UDF is closer to another street, but Sunset is the only street coming to mind at the moment, and for the sake of story it doesn't really matter, does it?
After turning around, we drove past these two guys again. Screamed some stuff at them that must have smelled like "Stop!". The person I was talking to on the phone remarked how different I sounded.
Superman's in the backseat and Riley (at twelve months old) is traumatized and calibrated, I'm sure, as I slow down to about 12 miles per hour to scream at these two grown men fighting on Queen City. Felt like my voice was a little high-pitched. Like I had a bell to ring at recess or something.
Drove back to a guy laying on the sidewalk. He was drunk. Taking a nap.
Two other people stopped too. We were comrades.
Called 911 and waited for way too long. Left when a really, really skinny cop showed.
Didn't touch the guy taking the nap. When on the phone with 911, they advised me not too. Felt really uncomfortable not touching him, and now in hindsight, it feels even worse.
He needed to be touched. Someone. He was alone. Hurt. Drunk. Untouched.
(Thinking now, if superman was not strapped in his car-seat in the back of the hand-me-down Camery, things would have been different.)