There are special moments in my life that really make me appreciate things. Moments that make me Smile On The Inside and think, “Somehow Nicolas Cage is still making movies, but life is really alright with me.”
I had one of those moments yesterday.
I was walking down Broadway on my way to Barnes & Noble in search of a book that, despite what you’re thinking, did not have any naked women in it.
Between thoughts of “Is it possible for your back to sweat so much that it actually melts?” and “I bet my feet stink” I heard some dude ahead of me yelling at the top of his lungs.
This being New York, I don’t really pay attention to people yelling, unless they’re yelling directly at me, and even then, unless they’re making fun of my shoes or Something Important like that, I usually just keep moving on with my day.
But this guy was different.
I was walking toward him, and slowly I was able to hear what exactly he felt the need to scream about at 1:37 in the afternoon.
At first I didn’t think I heard him correctly, but then sure enough he yelled it again:
“I fucking hate black people!”
I knew this was going to be a good one.
Because of the crowded sidewalk I still couldn’t see the guy, but I kept making my way through, closer and closer to the afternoon fun.
He continued, to my delight, with his tirade: “I wish I could fucking kill them all! Fucking black people! Fuck them!”
Then, just as he finished the last rant, I saw him.
He was black.
When I came to him, I stared and walked past, with a huge smile on my face. I couldn’t help thinking of that Dave Chapelle skit about the blind, black KKK leader, and how much this dude with a feverish hate for – well, himself – just made my day.
It was a moment that made me happy.
A little exchange with a crazy person that kept me chugging along and thinking, “If I was fucking insane, I think I’d like to be like that guy.”