I need to get out of this city

Eons ago now, when my child was a mere week or two. It's not really my job to remember those types of things. I'm not certain who's job it is, but it certainly isn't mine. She had a wrinkled mass on her forehead that I was certain were portents of a very worried child. The lines turned out to just be excesses of skin, which makes the forehead lines merely the first in many overreactions that parents are prone to.

Speaking of parents, it is strange is it not a strange juxtaposition that we are born to parenthood as your child is born into the world? Is it unfair of me to expect the same sort of attention on that day that our dear child received? A bath, perhaps some loving care. Of course it isn't, as you well know. Being born to parenthood is dying to self that old Christian reminder. Though I swear that my little darling enjoys Michigan basketball and watches it of her own volition. My wife would like me to believe that I am stunting her mental growth by allowing her to watch television, but I fear as much that by not watching television she will fall behind all those kids imbibing A,B,C's via Sesame Street with their breast milk.

Besides, it seems a cruelty to hide a wonderful thing like the monstrous eye of television from a child. It was probably cold that day. I doubt that much trash was blowing around, which is the type of thing that is generally mentioned when a person is writing about cities, however, we were in Bethesda, which is not the sort of place where trash goes untended. Rather, it is the sort of place where people cross the street with impunity and expect the cars to brake, and where they have wine shops and stores that sell only small bits of chocolate. In short, ritzy.

And as we strolled down the sidewalk, mother, wife, baby, father, we were perhaps taking up a larger portion of it than usual. Why? Because we were pushing a stroller. And, as we walked, chatting idly, I noticed an older man, grey hair, wife in tow, a harridan no doubt, I project with fair reason, but aren't all reasons fair in this type of situation? The fellow, which he was not, was aiming to bump into me, so I tried to slide my left shoulder in front making them horizontal to take up less space on the path to chocolate shops and wine.

And that was when I felt a jolt. Long ago, it was probably useful, biologically speaking, and I'm not even going to google or Wikipedia the damn thing, it just makes sense, for humans, especially males, to be aggressive and protective, particularly with the birth of a new offspring. This would allow the child, though certainly not in the modern play toy sense, to grow up in safety. However, society as we live in, where we agree to certain rules such as: I will not take everything which my heart desires and neither will you, subjugates this a bit.

And after I realized that older gentleman, know that the term I would use colloquially would be something more akin to a--hole, had smashed into me. And now his voice rang out expletive deleted, stop taking up the whole sidewalk, you (expletive deleted). At this point I became filled with rage, turned amongst a sea of people and yelled, "Why don't you shut up?" And approached the older gentleman, who immediately dropped the arm of his wife, poor woman and not a harridan in the slightest, so he could begin cursing at me while I explained that I was out for a walk with my wife and newborn child and didn't appreciate...until I was cut off by this man saying, "I don't give an expletive who you are."

Is fantasizing about hurting someone the same thing as hurting someone? It seems important to note that you never know what you'll do in this type of situation. If you'll adopt the social mores that are thrust upon you since near birth, dear s, if you encounter a gentleman like this in your future you have my solemn dictate to slap away, or do you end up grappling on the sidewalk in Bethesday with a man twenty five years your senior?

The old gent gave me a slight push, and I remembered back to all those years ago when my fifth grade teacher singled me out as a good catch to all the girls in the class because I was smart, because I was going to do something. And I realized that it was best to keep my wits about me and see if I could s a college fund sooner rather than later. "He pushed me," I said, imploring all of those happy white folks and moms pushing three strollers who were studiously trying to avoid the happenings in the street.

If I had to do it over again I would have offered him a secret meet up in a local parking lot where we could have discussed our differences with less decorum. However, society, and social conditioning trumped the biological imperative to protect once again. I fear that I must leave this city soon, or I'll soon find myself rolling around on the ground punching an old man who just happens to be an a--hole.