I had a weird day today, but others had it worse.
I had planned to write a "geez, the kids today!" type post, but what I thought was the ugliest a day could be wasn't.
I'm just going to write and not take too much time to think about the order and best way to phrase things. I'm certainly not going to re-read to edit.
Living in the subtropics and having pets means fleas. Lots of them. It never freezes, so we never get to start over. Because of this battle, I had to flea bomb the house. This meant that I was banished and headed for my little coffee shop to finish a book over a cappuccino or two.
When I left to meet a friend for lunch, I saw two boys harassing an elderly man, an old scrap of a man. I stepped in. It looked like it was getting bad and that they didn't stop when they saw that I was there really unnerved me. These boys, who were around 12, didn't care and the three of them were heading to a busy street with no one paying attention. The old man was mad, but he was no match. I would probably be no match for kids that arrogant. Still, what would you do? So I told them to piss off and stayed with the old man until I knew he was on his way and not followed.
For fuck sake. Excuse my language, but I was--and still am--pissed. Furious. Before he left, the old man said that what they did to him was horrible, but that he didn't want to discuss it. Good grief. Where do you get off harassing another? And how does picking on an old man, and I am talking very elderly, make you a better person?
I thought it was the worst day for me in a long time. I was upset. Wouldn't you be? I was also nervous. Will I be followed? Are they regulars? Will they recognise me? And what are two kids doing out of school at 11:30?
But that was nothing to what happened tonight.
The Pat Carroll Running Group (Peecie Argie) got a large group together to watch The Spirit of the Marathon at a theatre on the river. It wasn't a large theatre, so that we filled it was no big deal, but it was great to share the movie with other runners.
On the way back to the CityCat stop, a couple stopped us. They were embarrased to ask, but wondered what we thought something was in the river. It was dark and we were beyond where the walkway was lit. Okay, sure. Let's look.
I knew.
Dead.
It was a dead man. They weren't sure. Could it be a plastic bag? Could be. But I saw arms and a hint of legs. I knew. Had to. They were nervous about calling. What if we're wrong. I understood. How embarrassing to call in a busy police squad to haul in a bag or a big, dead fish. But I knew. And I called 000.
After a confusing phone call (Do you need an ambulance? No, it's pretty pointless at this time. Where are you? On the walk way between the CityCat stop and the movie theatre.), I was told to stay there and wait.
And we did.
It was a weird time. I didn't look at my watch, so I don't know how long we were there, but--and not to be trite during tragedy--it was the worst "watched pot never boils" time lag for us. We kept trying to convince ourselves, we and this other couple, that we were wrong.
But we weren't. It was dark, but I knew. I think they knew, too. There was the back. Nothing floats like that.
Eventually, the police called for better directions. Remember, we're on the river walk. It's after a 7 o'clock movie ended. Was it 9 ish? We're between the river and a big wall that separates the units. They're going to have to park and find us by walking. There is no quick drive.
They arrived two minutes later. When we pointed to the floating object about 5 metres from us, they shone the flashlight.
There was no doubt. Someone lost a son. He was young. I won't go into detail about his appearance, but just know that he was a young man, and he wasn't supposed to die today. He didn't look bad. I mean, he wasn't bloated. There were no marks visible to us. I still hoped he'd lift his head and apologise for scaring us. I know that's weird, but for some reason--no matter how sure I was before--I wanted to hope he was just an ass goofing around. He did not look dead.
I know I should think it was a bad day for him. Sure, it was. But he's not suffering anymore. I just think about his parents, friends, girlfriend or boyfriend. Siblings. He'll be missed. Their lives are about to change forever. This is their bad day. Their worst day.
Because we didn't find the body, we were allowed to go on. The police took the details of the other couple. We were free to go. Free. Free to go home, to bed. My life goes on. I still have my Mark. I was not abused or harassed by kids. I have a lot to be thankful for if fleas are my worst problem.
Good night.
p.s. sorry for any glaring errors. i choose not to re-read this.