Not Minding My Own Business

This spring I was walking through Washington Square Park on a sunny afternoon. A beautiful afternooon. people of all ges congregting nin one of the last free Omes in America. Hippies, reefer dealers, college students, millenial poets, jazz bands et al. A lot of everyone. And new people. Recently rightwing agitators had been setting up tables around the dry fountain toconfront the park people with their hate speech. I spotted a middle-aged man in Trump tee-shirt haranguing two black youths. Sticking his phone in their faces and demanding they answer his questions. The two youths werre not comfortable with his approach. They said nothing. He wouldn't lewve them lone. Evryone tells me to not get involved with otehr people. They are probably right, except I hate these racists.

Attending Anger Management classes, the moderators always claimed that we, humans, have a three-second trigger. Mine is bout Sro nd this man had already pulled my trigger without having heard a single word of his spiel. I walked up to the three and warned the white guy to stop harassing the youth. Seeking a confrontation, he stuck his phone in my face. I whacked it out of his hand. This act by an old white man initiated a free-for-all beating by the nearby black youths. I protected him after a few whacks. Ordering everyone to leave him alone and telling him to fuck off. He wanted to find his phone. A tall black guy said, "Who are real anyone anything," "I started all this and I'm ending it." I looked over his shoulder and spotted a white guy pointing me out to a uniformed cop. The tall guy said, "If that is so, then you better get going." I stepped off and saw Trigger with his ubiquitous peasant hat sitting on a bench. He had seen everything. I didn't acknowledge him and left the park. As for the hate-monger. Ain't seen him. I saw Trigger easily this month. He said nothing. Happy about that.