If You Mess With the Bull. . . .

Two bulls are standing on top of a hill; a young bull and a much older bull. They're looking over a herd of cows, and the younger bull says, "Let's run down there and fuck ourselves one of them cows!"

From time to time I recall moments and experiences that at the time seemed fairly innocuous to only later realize how they predict my behavior now. I recall sometime early in the First Grade my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Grosgritz passed us a lesson on sharing or something that I took as one of learning when to pick my battles and not to be whipped into a fervor by another’s arbitrary whim.

The teacher had us all stand in a circle, a class of some 20 kids and she stood in the middle holding a candybar high above her head. She paced the circle discussing loudly what she was going to do; her plan was to throw this candybar into the circle. Each would have a fair chance at getting it and whomever got it, got to keep it. She stepped out of what was now a ring, and tossed the confection in.

The whole class immediately descended, save myself and one other. I just recall standing there watching this scene unfold as twenty some-odd kids fought and struggled to wrest the candybar from one another. I don’t recall the other kids rationale, but after Mrs. Grosgritz broke the pile she asked us why we didn’t involve ourselves. “I just didn’t see the point in doing that over a candybar,” I said (or at least something like that). The best part was that the kid who ended up with the candybar had little more than something resembling a turd, smashed in a wrapper. He won, but for what?

Why this comes up is because I see this same behavior daily on a greater scale when commuting via the train between work and home.

The older bull replies, "How about we walk down there and fuck 'em all?"

Near everyday I watch this situation unfold. I get to the train station in time to see the train pull up as I pull my briefcase from my car. In the same parking lot I see a few heads pop up and about a half dozen men and women break in a dead run to catch the train. I open my briefcase, drop my keys in, grab my iPod and start walking to the platform. I usually get there in time to see the train pull away. I pull a smoke from my pocket, and I wait. During this time of the morning I’ll have the platform to myself. I don’t worry; the next train is in 10 minutes. That’s the train I’m there for anyway, I just like being early.

Also near everyday I see the same situation, but in some ways better. I’ll catch the bus over to the station. The tension on those things can be brutal. It’s not sourced from some thug sitting in the back polishing his brass knuckles or counting the contents of his last victims wallet; it’s men and women in ties and dresses sitting there grumbling, pensively watching the road as if by shear power of will they can control the destinies of those around them.

As we arrive at the station, two trains stand idling; one leaves any moment; the other in about ten minutes. Of course once the doors to the bus open most all break into that dead run for the train that leaves first. I boarded that train a couple of times; you have relatively no choice in seating arrangement. If one is available, it’s generally on the sunny side of the car and the whole thing is full of persons that look at each other with a yardstick that measures who’s closer to god. I in turn go for the later train. I have my choice of seat and ride in fair comfort and I don’t really count those lost ten minutes as being lost.

I’ve seen coworkers get caught up in this; Glenn will stand there almost dancing at the bus stop with repeated looks down the street. He’ll near push his way onto the bus and is usually one of the first off when we get there. I’ve asked him in a backhanded manner what his motivation was, “What do you generally do after work?”

“Nothing really, just watch TV,” was his reply. Regardless of his elevated position at work, I see this behavior as aggressive, not dominant.

Another I’ve seen caught up in this game is an attractive, younger receptionist who works in another office named Amy. We’re generally on the same train in the morning and will often catch the same bus to our building. The train was late yesterday though and we missed our bus. Amy was intent on waiting the 20 minutes for the next, but I proposed an idea; any bus leaving the station stops in a relative proximity to the building where we both work. “Why not just take one of them and walk the distance?” I asked her. She looked at me with a raised brow and I added that she was already late; she really had nothing more to lose. She agreed and followed me.

We boarded a semi-random bus and were let off at Third South and Fourth West. “Oh we just take Third over to Second?” she asked.

“Even better,” I replied pointing towards Pierpont Avenue and set off walking. Amy quickly shed her heels and came up in tow. As we came up on Pierpont and Fourth I had her stop to see one of the many oases I have found in this city. A quick second later we were back on the move. I couldn’t help but watch how she walked: very focused with her eye to the horizon.

At one point I had to guide Amy off the beaten path to cut across the parking lot behind Java Joe’s. By now the backside of our building could be seen. Coming up on Third I was starting to figure a few things out about her. As we came to the sidewalk, just about mid-block, Amy turned and started heading for the cross walk. “Wait,” I said and directed her attention to see that with the exception of cars idling at either intersection, there was no traffic for about a hundred yards. “Sometimes jay-walking is the thing to do,” I said with a smile. She followed me across the road.

As we came upon the pay lot on the corner I mentioned to her that on the days I drive; this is where I have to park, a whole block away. Considering what I had observed and already knew about her, what she offered next was a bit of a surprise; “I’m supposed to, but I kinda cheat the system.” I inquired as to how and admittingly though resourceful her method was, I’m not finding it worth the risk of being ticketed and/or having my car impounded. I would like a better place to leave my car though. Indeed that could be a slippery slope.

The point here though isn’t one of sex, or even relationships. The point is, “What do you do with what you’ve been given and what do you give yourself?”