The whole incident unfolded in the blink of an eye. By the time I realized I had been rudely pushed – shoved, more like it - by fellow male who had nothing on me in size or youth, I began to seethe. How dare he pull a macho stunt like that! I had visions of running after him, yelling, “hey, buddy, who do you think you are?”
About five years ago, Izzy and I took a karate class together. If only he had decided to stick with martial arts instead of switching to dance, I would be a black belt today, for sure. Armed with the hand-to-hand secret combat skills of the Far East, that miscreant would have been on the receiving end of a lesson in manners he wouldn’t soon forget. His good luck, I guess, my youngest child traded in his gei for dancing shoes.
But I remember what he looks like. Bellevue is a small town. I could easily run into him again, and the next time he might not escape unscathed. I won my only schoolyard scrap as a twelve-year old, retiring undefeated and subsequently turned my energies in the direction of love. It may have been a long time since I last engaged in fisticuffs, but a man’s honor is no small thing. In the meantime, in the spirit of the holiday season I wish my antagonist to be fruitful and multiply, but not in those exact words.