|The Lost Coast - Day 1 - April 2018|
|My Favorite River Crossing - The Lost Coast - Day 2 - April 2018|
|Sheila the Wonder Pup - The Lost Coast - Day 3 - April 2018|
On my way home from work I turn a corner and stumble upon an altercation. A man in his mid-thirties and disheveled to the point of concern is holding a beer and screaming at a man a decade older dressed in an all-grey uniform complete with a sheriff’s badge. Screamer throws an arch of beer in the direction of Sheriff but most of it lands directly in my path. I pause and look over, gauging whether it’s safe to run-walk past. What strikes me is not Screamer, but the fact that the beer Screamer is wielding is a Lagunitas Little Sumpin’. Good taste in beer, I think to myself.
The two shift out of my path, providing me the perfect moment to sneak past. I, like most people on the sidewalk, have learned that the safest thing to do in these situations is to simply keep walking. I do just that and make my way to the nearby bus stop.
So there I stand with 30 other folks facing the road but looking to our left, watching as Screamer lunges toward Sheriff. Sheriff declares, “Now you’ve officially hit a member of law enforcement.” I find myself, somewhat shamefully, wondering, Is Sheriff actually a sheriff? Do they wear grey? Did his badge look plastic? I feel like it looked plastic.
In response, Screamer throws his bottle of Little Sumpin’ on the ground. It shatters. I, again somewhat shamefully, think, What a waste.
The altercation intensifies as if the sound of the shattering glass were the toll of a boxing ring bell. With two free hands, Screamer is more confident, throwing open-hand hits at Sheriff’s face. Sheriff attempts to grab Screamer and pin his arms down. When this doesn’t work, he throws Screamer on the floor. Screamer’s head smacks the sidewalk. There’s a collective inhale from the bus stop crowd. Screamer gets back up. There’s a relieved exhale.
I think to myself, This is getting out of hand. I’ve gotta do something. Someone should do something. A young professional steps between them. I think, Oh my gosh, this man is a hero. We can’t hear what he’s saying. He must be speaking low and calm. That’s smart, I think. But then Young Professional takes three large steps back and begins flexing, pumping his right fist. Wait, is this guy kidding?, I think.
Screamer has taken a new opponent. Sheriff appears relieved. Young Professional apparently decides it isn’t worth it and walks away. Screamer’s attention returns to Sheriff and the squabble continues.
Finally, after what feels like hours, the 5R arrives, and I board my bus. I turn around to get a last look at the men arguing and find Screamer is sitting calmly on the ground, legs spread in a forty-five-degree angle while Sheriff stands above him breathing deep.
I take a few deep breaths myself, letting my anxiety dissipate. And as the bus rolls on, I find myself, no longer shamefully, mourning the loss of a perfectly delicious Little Sumpin’.
|Sea Urchins Have Pretty Skeletons - The Lost Coast - Day 4 - April 2018|
|Cool Cats - The Lost Coast - Day 3 - April 2018|
|Not a Bad Campsite - The Lost Coast - Day 2 - April 2018|
|Happiest Beer of my Life - The Lost Coast - Day 4 - April 2018|