Salutations populace of Dawson,
I don’t mean to criticize, so I won’t. I’ll only say good things because, as my mother once told me, “If you can’t say anything good, then don’t say anything at all.” That was one of the few times I heard my mother talk. She is a very quiet woman. The other advice I have been given, whenever I have to say something negative, is to tack on something positive. For example, if I need to say, “Oh my God, a wasp just stung me in the ear and it’s swelling up to the size of a rutabaga!” I always add, “but my life is so blessed.” This is to remind me that no matter what horrible thing is currently happening, the rest of my life is still basically pretty good.
If I ever hear someone saying this sort of garbage in front of my face I will seriously bust a cap in someone’s ass. Whoever sees life in this way needs a serious wake-up call. This past weekend, I was walking home from work; actually that’s a lie, I was going to a bar after work. At this point in time it’s about midnight and I’m in a rather dark and empty part of town; I notice six visible minority youths behind me. Yes, this might sound racist, but it’s the truth.
I notice they are getting a little riled up. By this I mean that they are screaming in the street and making lots of noise. I obviously ignore them because I don’t really care, to be honest, that they are being disrespectful. However, once they started getting bored teasing each other, they moved their verbal attacks onto me. This is when I started paying more attention to my surroundings. They were getting quite rambunctious. As they slurred out insult after insult, they were also getting closer and closer to me, until finally all six of them were surrounding me. I’m not going to lie, but at this time all I could think about is how I am about to get mugged and wondering how much it will hurt. Let me tell you, I was not trying to see the positive of this situation. So, as I am lost in my thoughts, my six new friends start pushing me around like a kin ball.
Finally, one of them sucker punches me in the temple when I am not looking. Getting punched in the side of your head hurts like a bitch, let me tell you. Naturally, following the blow to the head I clench my hand to my face, and the guy who struck me asks, in a rather rude manner I might add, for my wallet. Of course, my first reaction is to comply with his demand. But, as I am reaching for my wallet the “what if” voice pops into my head; the same voice that makes people do all kinds of stupidities. Like, what if I tried to catch a bullet with my teeth? What if I could jump over a moving car? What if I can get away from these six thugs? Obviously being the genius I am, I listened to my “what if” voice. So, I fake getting my wallet from my pocket but, instead, I reach back with all my might and I smash my fist into the face of the same guy who stroked me. Just as my hand touched his face, I started running. This was the fastest I’ve ever ran in my whole life. I told myself, “Sam, do not turn around; it will only slow you down.” So I ran, ran, and ran some more. I could hear them chasing me, screaming after me. But I just kept running. I ran about 20 blocks until I was sure no one was chasing me anymore.
The experience as a whole was extremely frightening, yet exhilarating at the same time. To anyone who thinks that finding the good in everything I say, go chill in Little Burgundy at 1 in the morning. I am pretty positive you will have something negative to say.
Stay classy Dawson…Word to your mothers!
Samuel Lavigne Schmidt