:: The
hands of peace
:
June 5th '98 ::
I spent the weekend at my parents place in the
suburbs
Bob
gave me a copy of "The autobiography of a yogi" by
Paramahansa Yogananda.
I
read some of the book on the bus back to the city, and then
I took the train back to the city, boarding at Surrey central
station, where as a youth, I was routinely harassed for my crazy
new wave 80's fashions, my trench coat, and my skateboard, which
I brandished regularly to get myself out of tight situations.
The mere sight of the place brings back bad memories of being
chased by big rocker kids with feathered hair and torn jean
jackets emblazoned with Quiet Riot patches on the back.
While
they terrorized me, I used to tease them that they knew nothing
of metal, and that they should come by my place sometime to
listen to some real hard stuff like Metalica or Iron Maiden
or even Judas Priest. I used to tell them that Def Leppard really
wasn't metal.They didn't get it. And with my Duran Duran haircut,
they must have been very confused. I was not popular at surrey
central in those years, which at the time, was known as the
Whally exchange.
I
digress. Back to the present. Or in this case, the nearly present.
On
my way up to the platform, I saw two big tough kids chasing
after this little skinny kid who was about two or three years
younger than they were.
He was a little skater kid, and it reminded me all too well
of these early years.
The
kid tried to get away by stepping onto the train I was on, but
the bullies got on the car and said, "It'll hurt more on
the train." They got off.
I
got off with them
I
picked up a security phone and called the sky train police to
come and deal with the problem. They said they would arrive
right away. Right away wasn't fast enough for the situation.
The
bigger and meaner of the two bullies began to threaten me.
He
pushed me.
"What
did you do that for?" He shouted.
"Two
against one isn't exactly fair, is it?" I said.
He
pushed me again.
I
told him this was his problem, and that his anger had nothing
to do with me, or the person he was chasing. I told him to pick
on some one his own size.
He
asked me if I wanted to go "toe to toe"
I
said I didn't believe in violence.
He
said, "I'll remember your face."
I
said, "I'll remember yours."
He
came at me again, fast, with his fists balled.
I
was still holding "The autobiography of a Yogi" in
my hand.
I
slammed the book into his chest as he rushed toward me.
I
put the cover in front of his face, and said, "Look what
I am reading. It's all about peace!"
He
was stunned.
He stopped.
He
walked away.
The
little skater kid said thank you.
Five
minutes passed.
Then
security showed up.
