Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Do Not Redact

Do Not React began as a diagnostic excercise, designed to check if my frequent hostile interactions are isolated freak occurrences, or if my behavior is at fault. Of course it turns out all my woes are self-inflicted, and merely drawing a full breath before saying what I'm thinking keeps me out of trouble 90% of the time. Good for the soul, bad for the blog.

See below brief redaction of near-misses from the past few weeks:

A man and woman, hitherto unacquainted, discoursed at the top of their lungs on every conceivable topic for seven straight hours while sitting just behind me on a trans-Atlantic flight:

"Oh, what about cereal. Do you like cereal?"

"What? Oh my god, no way! I love cereal!"

Thought: Kill kill kill
Did: Nothing

I was in Barcelona after a major home-town soccer victory over Manchester United. The streets were thronged with fans.

Drunken Spaniard (pointing into my chest): Man.... Manchester?
Me: No! Barsa, Barsa, Baaaaaarsa!

I was exiting the subway. A man with thinning blonde hair pushed his way ahead of me in line. I could see beads of sweat on his scalp.

Thought: Watch it, baldy!
Said: Nothing

I was biking fast through an intersection, my light was green, and a pedestrian strolled blithely into my path.

Thought: What the fuck is your problem?
Said: Good morning!

More on this story as it develops

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