I got scared last night.
The prickly, surreal fright that crawls up your arms and ices over your chest. And worst of all, it was totally unexpected.
I'd been out playing pool with a few friends, and had just stopped in the drive-thru to get a coffee before making the trek home. The drive through sits facing a bank of stores across the road, and as I waited for my cup I gazed through the few fledgling trees to the action on the other side of the road.
What I saw terrified me. Not only because of it's horrible reality, but the fact of where it was happening.
There, on the sidewalk in broad electric light was a guy getting the shit kicked out of him.
I sat, slack jawed as the branches of the tree obstructed my view.
Could this really be happening? Have I been reading too much crazy fiction that I'm imagining this?For a moment I thought of telling the coffee girl to call 911, but scrapped the idea. What if I was wrong? What if that group of guys standing there, yelling and dancing around, weren't actually hitting each other?
But as I crept forward, following the paved path out of the coffee shop drive-thru, I knew I was right. There, two guys were pinning the arms of a third back, while a fourth hurled punches into his chest.
My jaw was still hanging. My brain could not compute what was happening. Such insanity,
here, in the town next to mine. The sleepy little town where everyone walks home at 2 a.m., safe and sound. Not to mention the poor guy who was taking the brunt of this mindless violence.
"Christ," I breathed.
Suddenly, a guy flashed in front of my bumper, madly running toward the action. I nearly hit him, not looking forward but fixed on the scene across two lanes of pavement. I braked, then rolled forward, then slammed on the brakes again, completely oblivious to the world around me.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone, mashing the keys, trying to call CrimeStoppers. For those who don't know, it's a service some municipalities have, an anonymous tip line you can call to report crime, without having to go through the red tape of 911.
My first attempt failed. "Your call cannot be completed as dialed," the stoic voice said. "Please hang up and try your call again."
"FUCK!" I yelled. I checked, and had added a bunch of extra digits to the number. By now my heart was racing, and my fingers trembled as they mashed the keyboard. Finally, after double-checking the number, I hit send.
"Crimestoppers," came the woman's voice.
"I need to report an assault in progress," I shouted. "At the (blank) Variety, across from the Tim Hortons, in (blank)."
A moment passed. "OK, what's going on?" I was too out of it to come back with anything cutting, but if I recall correctly, I just said there was an assault in progress. Kinda serious.
"Uh...some guy is being held by two other guys and being punched, it looks like."
"Oh. I'll get someone out there right away," she replied, then disconnected.
And that was it. The call lasted roughly 30 seconds. Now what?
By then I was sitting in a parking lot a short distance from the scene. Should I go back, wait closer to the store? What more can I do!? I sat for a few more seconds, but realized I was pretty powerless. No other friends to help, no cops in view, no shotgun in the trunk...
Tearing out of the parking lot, I put the windows down listening to the roar of the engine. Cold breeze slapped my face and the radio thumped David Bowie's 'China Girl' as I tried to get my mind back into reality. Jesus Christ, that was insane.
I started to shake, part from the cold air, part from the genuine shock of what I'd just seen. Maybe this is common in your city, or your suburb, but not here. Things like this just
don't happen here. What's worse, I knew with sickening truth that it wasn't just a bar fight between two disgruntled guys.
The area has been in a sharp decline over the past two years, with the youth becoming ever more restless and jaded. They dress in homeboy clothes, sit in parking lots blasting rap, smoking joints and cat calling to the girls who walk by. This doesn't include the majority of the young people in the area, really it's a small faction of them...but it's the most volatile percentage. And I was pretty sure what I'd seen was a confrontation between two groups of youths. Like I said, these guys didn't look like they'd just come from the bar down the street, and the guy I nearly ran over was running from the hang-out parking lot.
After I stopped shaking, about halfway home, I started getting pissed off. This isn't supposed to happen in our community, and I'm not putting up with this shit. It's not the majority that's involved, but it ends up being everyone's problem if there are going to be random fights in the streets. And I'm not letting these guys ruin what everyone else has enjoyed for so long.
I still don't know when the police arrived, or if anyone was arrested, or if the guy getting beat on was checked out by a paramedic. Probably, I'll never know. But I know from now on, I'm never going to let this shit slide again.
"I'll ruin everything you are..."