My Near-Death Experience on Main Street

[George H. Smith]

[i posted this yesterday on my Facebook Wall. I am posting it here because I thought it might lead to a discussion of the love of books and related matters.]

MY NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCE ON MAIN STREET

I cannot recall when I began the practice, developed the skill, and perfected the art that brought about my near-death experience on Main Street over a decade ago. All I know for certain is that it all began at some point in my boyhood. I have distinct memories of rushing to the store to get the latest issue of Superman Comics and then walking home slowly, reading as I walked.

To see a boy reading a comic while walking probably did not elicit much attention from bystanders, since this is the sort of thing a boy might do. But after I became an avid reader of books and continued the practice of reading while walking, things changed.

In high school and college, judging from the comments I got from neighbors, the practice made me appear studious. In later life I appeared eccentric. Nowadays if I read a book while walking, especially if I am walking my dog at the same time, my neighbors call it "darling" and "cute."

I haven't owned a car in many years, so I walk nearly everywhere I need to go. A mile round trip -- the distance to downtown Bloomington and back -- is par for the course. And since I walk my dog at least several times each day, my peculiar art has made me identifiable to people I have never met.

I have been in grocery stores, book stores, pawn shops, restaurants, and bars, only to have a stranger say: "Hey, I know you! You're that guy who reads a book while he walks his dog."

When I moved to Bloomington in late 1999, reading while walking was such a normal part of my life that I never gave it a second thought. What I failed to take into account was how the substantial redneck population in this fair Midwestern city might react to my art.

This brings us to the incident on Main Street. It occurred on a beautiful summer afternoon in 2001. I had walked (without my dog) to the Family Video store a half-mile from where I live. My book of choice was something I needed to read for a current project: Karl Mannheim's Ideology and Utopia.

After dropping off some DVDs, I walked along Main Street for the return trip. When I encountered a red light, I stopped and continued to read as I waited for the light to change. Then I heard a car, badly in need of muffler work, pull up next to me on this one-way street.

Then came the remark, shouted in a way that only a redneck can shout:

HEY, MAN! WHATCHA READIN'?

As I heard raucous laughter, I looked to my right and saw an old car with more primer than paint on the body. Inside were three young men and a woman driver. The shouter was hanging out a rear window, a can of beer in hand, just a few feet away.

Another habit of mine, in addition to reading while walking, is responding instantaneously to insults, before my instinct of self-preservation is able to send a warning signal to my brain. Thus, in a nanosecond, I held up the book in my left hand, tapped the cover vigorously with the fingers of my right hand, and shouted back:

IT'S CALLED A BOOK!

Bad move. Even this drunk redneck knew he had been insulted, and he was in no mood for some witty repartee. Very bad move. I immediately heard what I feared would be the last words I would ever hear:

YOU GODDAMNED MUTHAFUCKER! I'M GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!

The redneck had trouble opening his door, which gave me a few seconds to reflect: "So this is how it will end. I will be beaten to death by a redneck." I could almost see the headline in the Pantagraph:

NOTED ATHEIST MURDERED ON MAIN STREET!

Fortunately for me, the god of street lights intervened -- or maybe the spirit of Sinclair Lewis was watching over me. The light turned green before the redneck could figure out how to open his door, after which the female driver shouted, "Get the hell back in the car! We've gotta go!"

I took a deep breath as the car pulled away, turned left to get to another street, slipped the book in my back pocket, and continued my journey home.

Ghs

[Brant Gaede]

I had a near death experience while thinking. It was on a street in NYC decades ago. I approached a corner on Eight Ave. thinking about, something, not about walking, not about ATCAG, and my momentum meant I would step into the street, but for some unconscious reason I broke stride and stopped. At that instant a bike went silently by at high speed right where I was going to step. That would have been a bad one.

Come back to Tucson, George, you can pack a gun. Concealed carry, no permit.

Brant

I pack a hundred pound chocolate Lab, but damn! he eats a lot!

[George H. Smith]

I had a near death experience while thinking. It was on a street in NYC decades ago. I approached a corner on Eight Ave. thinking about, something, not about walking, not about ATCAG, and my momentum meant I would step into the street, but for some unconscious reason I broke stride and stopped. At that instant a bike went silently by at high speed right where I was going to step. That would have been a bad one. Come back to Tucson, George, you can pack a gun. Concealed carry, no permit. Brant I pack a hundred pound chocolate Lab, but damn! he eats a lot!

The last time I visited Tucson many years ago, my girlfriend and I went to a circus that was held in a large arena that had stupidly been built in a shitty part of town. When we returned to my car at around midnight, I noticed the hubcaps had been stolen. I reacted stoically, wanting nothing more at that moment than to get the hell out of that area. But the car would not even turn over. The battery had also been stolen. My response to that was anything but stoical.

Ghs

[Selene]

Great story George:

I thought that I was the only lunatic who read and walk around town. I even do it Manhattan.

Additionally, when I will go into a strange or new bar in my travels, I will always try to sit where I can see the doors, with my back to the wall at the end of whatever shape the bar is in.

I will read while I have a beer, or while waiting for food if it is a lunch hour type place.

For some reason, barmaids find this sexy. However, as you noted, some folks find it intimidating, or strange.

I was at a blue collar bar in Queens about thirty (30) years ago and I was playing chess with a construction worker friend when the board and pieces went flying from the wooden pew table we were sitting at.

I stood up and, as I did, I said something really stupid and wound up on my tip toes with a hand grasping my shirt at my throat where the tie was knotted and heard those wonderful words that you heard.

I looked up at his 6' 4" frame and made some quick decisions. I said in a very low voice that he better kill me because when I got out of the hospital I would kill him, or my people would. Kinda stopped him for a few seconds, I think it was because of the direct eye contact. I continued, quickly, that he knew, I knew and everyone else in the bar knew that he could probably take me easily, so he would look real foolish beating up someone everyone knew he could beat up. And, if I got lucky and took him, he would be humiliated.

Well, needless to say, I got lucky. He relaxed his grip, my heels found the ground and he announced that he liked me and that nobody had better mess with me.

Would up, as we became friends in the ensuing week, that he was on parole and was a pretty nasty mother, but he said that it did make sense what I said and he liked the fact that I had the guts to say what I said.

Proving once again, sometimes you just get flat out lucky. Again, this was thirty (30) years ago when there were still some rules on the street.

Try that today and you would probable wind up very dead.

Adam

[George H. Smith]

Great story George: I thought that I was the only lunatic who read and walk around town. I even do it Manhattan. Additionally, when I will go into a strange or new bar in my travels, I will always try to sit where I can see the doors, with my back to the wall at the end of whatever shape the bar is in. I will read while I have a beer, or while waiting for food if it is a lunch hour type place. For some reason, barmaids find this sexy. However, as you noted, some folks find it intimidating, or strange. I was at a blue collar bar in Queens about thirty (30) years ago and I was playing chess with a construction worker friend when the board and pieces went flying from the wooden pew table we were sitting at. I stood up and, as I did, I said something really stupid and wound up on my tip toes with a hand grasping my shirt at my throat where the tie was knotted and heard those wonderful words that you heard. I looked up at his 6' 4" frame and made some quick decisions. I said in a very low voice that he better kill me because when I got out of the hospital I would kill him, or my people would. Kinda stopped him for a few seconds, I think it was because of the direct eye contact. I continued, quickly, that he knew, I knew and everyone else in the bar knew that he could probably take me easily, so he would look real foolish beating up someone everyone knew he could beat up. And, if I got lucky and took him, he would be humiliated. Well, needless to say, I got lucky. He relaxed his grip, my heels found the ground and he announced that he liked me and that nobody had better mess with me. Would up, as we became friends in the ensuing week, that he was on parole and was a pretty nasty mother, but he said that it did make sense what I said and he liked the fact that I had the guts to say what I said. Proving once again, sometimes you just get flat out lucky. Again, this was thirty (30) years ago when there were still some rules on the street. Try that today and you would probable wind up very dead. Adam

During the years that I taught my Fundamentals of Reasoning classes, I advised participants to carry a book with them, preferably a paperback that could fit into a back pocket or a purse, etc. I didn't suggest that they read while walking -- that is too nutty for most people -- but I mentioned how much time we waste while waiting in bank lines (this was before ATMs), doctors' offices, etc., and how that time can be put to good use by reading.

The closest I ever came to a bar fight occurred c. 1993, while I was living in Long Beach. My girlfriend and I would sometimes go to a cowboy bar, which was only a block away and which had reasonable prices. Most the people were nice, but one time, when the bar was very crowded, I got stuck sitting next to a guy wearing a hat and cowboy boots.

His wife was sitting to his right, and she seemed very nice -- and certainly much brighter than her drunk and doofus husband. who decided he would regale me with his opinions about "queers." He went on and on about queers this and queers that. Unfortunately, my girlfriend was talking to the person to her left, so I couldn't ignore him by talking to her; and since there was no other space at the bar, I was stuck.

I didn't say anything; rather, I spent most of the time looking straight ahead, hoping he would get the clue. But he didn't; he kept talking and never changed the subject. I resolved not to say anything, since he appeared the shit-kicker type who would not hesitate to get into a bar brawl. But he finally forced my hand.

After saying something to which he expected me to respond, there was a pause of a few seconds. Then he said, "So what do you think?"

I replied, "Think about what?"

"Queers. What do you think about queers? You've got a good-lookin' gal, so I know you're not a queer."

I know I should have said something like "I don't want to talk about this," but I was so pissed-off that I actually said: "Let me put it this way. They don't do anything that your wife hasn't done."

His reaction was predictable. While muttering some cowboy obscenities he started to stand up, presumably to challenge me to a fight. Fortunately, his wife thought my remark was funny. She laughed and pulled him back on the bar stool, saying: "It was a joke, hon. Where's your sense of humor?"

Although we had only been at the bar for 15 minutes, I decided that discretion was the better part of valor. I interrupted my girlfriend and told her we should leave, pronto. And we did.

Ghs

[merjet]

Boo to one beer nut; yeah to many Beer Nuts.

You could use a much bigger dog.

[9thdoctor]

YOU GODDAMNED MUTHAFUCKER! I'M GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!

I bet he would have only smashed your glasses.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOhS2pzCCHk

[Brant Gaede]

I confess--I stole George's hubcaps, all those years ago.

--Brant

but I didn't take the battery, no, no, no

[caroljane]

Bloomington and Tucson do not sound like Respectable Places at all.