I’m aware that most young people who dress and behave in a “menacing” way are playing a game: they get to scare people like me. In turn, people like me get to feel angry, afraid, guilty and hopeless.Â
Â
The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world . . .William Butler Yeats
I’ve developed a quick “scan” to determine whether someone around me is menacing. I note the black hoodie, pants falling down, hands not visible, looking at everyone with a scowl and using foul language, especially in a group. My scan includes the good signs: carrying a backpack, listening intently to earphones, and being on the phone. I figure someone who has a phone is not looking for mine.
Â
If I’m uncomfortable, I often slip out the door and quickly board an adjacent car. Recently that backfired when I went from a guy singing obscene songs to a guy who had been sick on himself and was having seizures. I reported the guy having seizures, thinking he needed an ambulance, and was told “he’s like that every day.”
Â
I’ve pretty much decided that the mumblers, the preachers, and the lurchers up and down the aisle are harmless.
Â
Recently I came home on the EL in rush hour. I was seated next to a young man, someone who could be described as clean-cut, probably high school or college age. A woman stood above him, sixtyish I’d guess, weighted down with purse and tote, and swaying as she held onto the strap above her. I turned to him and said, ” Are you sure you want her to stand?” He replied “Are you sure you do?” I said “I’m over seventy.” He turned back and took a large book out of his book bag, and opened it to begin reading. It was Milton’s Paradise Lost.
