Ice Man
It happened 30 years ago.
To a sports-obsessed kid with thick glasses and abnormally large teeth. Not to mention, a pair of legs that even chickens would call skinny. Basically, all the makings of a future hall-of-famer. Ok, maybe I wasn’t destined for the major leagues. But, man, did I love the game. All of them, actually. Baseball, football, and basketball came first. But the obsession also included old fogey sports like golf and tennis.
(Editor’s note: I have no clue how to spell “fogey” since I’ve never used that word in my life)
Back to our story…
On this particular day, I was in the big city. Pittsburgh. Just doing my civic duty – dropping my aunt off at the airport. Dragged on another lame mission by these pesky parents. Groan. You know what kids love? Sitting in a car for 90 minutes to run errands in another city. Let the good times roll. I buried my head under a hoodie with my trusty yellow Walkman. Old buddies MC Hammer and Billy Idol would ease this pain.
Walking past the gates, I contemplated whether airports are the worst place on earth…
Wondering if anything cool has ever happened here…
But then something caught my attention. What’s with this big crowd? Also, why are people running through the airport? They’re all heading in the same direction. And a bunch of them are my age.
I decided to question a random kid. He answered quickly on the run:
CRAZY-EYED KID
The Pirates are landing right now!
ME
Wait, did you say the—
KID
Yes! They’re landing here!
And, with that, he disappeared around a corner. I couldn’t see much, but there was an obvious buzz in the air. And then his words finally hit me.
WAIT, THE PITTSBURGH PIRATES ARE HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!
See, the Pirates had clinched the pennant. Led by their MVP. Part human, part superhero…
Mr. Barry Bonds.
This man was the exact opposite of me and my physique. Carved out of stone. No thick glasses. Extremely normal-sized teeth. The dude was Iron Man and Thor rolled into one. And he was about to enter this very airport.
What were the odds of this miracle? I begged my parents to stay until the team showed up. Getting to cheer on the division champs as they arrived back in town?? Life just doesn’t get any better than this.
And then it did.
My parents waited patiently in the background while I made my move. Right into the eye of the storm. Weaving through walls of fans clad in yellow. Dodging any obstacle in my way with the precision of a ninja. Slithering all the way to the front of the crowd. Bruce Lee would have approved. Within minutes, the players were exiting their plane. Suddenly, they were walking RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME.
We cheered wildly for these conquering heroes. Showering the division champs with buckets of love. And, then, there he was. Last but certainly not least…
The MVP.
Barry Lamar Bonds.
The crowd erupted. Nobody louder than me. I thought the roof might fly off into the night. This airport was rocking. And, as he came into focus, a few kids ducked under the makeshift rope. Greeting him with pats on the back and high-fives.
Wait, we can do THAT??
Without a second of hesitation, I shot out of a cannon. At least that’s what it felt like. Nothing would stop me now. Ducking under the barricade, sprinting to Bonds…so eager to share this moment. Feeling like a mini Jackie Chan. Unfortunately, I was more of a spaz than Jackie is. I miscalculated the speed and energy of my windup. Too late to stop now. With a giant crazy smile on my face, I reached back to give Barry Bonds a pat on the back and…
Hit him WAY too hard.
Oops.
Oh well, I’m just an excited kid whose face is 98% teeth and glasses. He’ll understand. I mean, I’m just so thrilled to m—
Uh-oh.
The dude whipped his head around, glaring at me like I was a grown man trying to start a brawl at the local dive bar. We were face to face now. I really wanted to apologize but my mouth appeared to be completely frozen.
Say something.
Anything.
No luck. Just a total freeze job. He stared at me with fire in his eyes. The kind of anger I hadn’t seen since showing my mom the most recent report card. How did I manage a C+ in math? I’m literally Indian. Anyway, focus. How do I fix this situation? In an ideal universe, I’d be able to speak actual words. But that’s currently impossible. So…
Is Barry Bonds about to knock me out of Allegheny County?
(By my count, this moment lasted for approximately 7 hours)
And then…mercifully…he was engulfed by the other, less-spazzy kids.
Somehow, I survived to live another day.
(Hey, maybe the freezing wasn’t so bad after all. Y’know, if I spoke, I actually could have made things worse)
CUT TO:
Last week.
A man stands in line at the post office. Salt-and-pepper beard. Tooth size proportional to face. This particular guy is quite a bit older than Barry Bonds was then. Not sure where the time went. But this man is me.
Still a sports fanatic. Still a bit spazzy. Just no longer armed with the boundless energy of youth.
A woman walks in. Hair unkempt. Racing straight to the clerk in spite of a very long line of customers. With a thick New York accent, she begins yelling at the sleepy postal worker.
LADY
My card is stuck in the machine!
CLERK
Ok, I’ll get someone to help you soon.
LADY
I said my card is STUCK in the machine!
CLERK
Ma’am, if you can just wait a minute–
LADY
–MY CARD IS STUCK IN THE FUCKING MACHINE!!!!!
(Everything stops. All eyes moving from iPhones to real life. The crowd is now fully engaged)
CLERK
Ma’am, do not speak to me like that.
(The lady looks down at the floor. For a very long moment)
LADY (softly)
My card is stuck. Please help me.
She walks back out to the infamous machine. Very quickly. Her eyes glued to the ground the entire way. Seemingly shocked by her own outburst. Once she disappears from sight, the murmurs begin. A few nervous laughs. Multiple sneers.
All the usual reactions.
A full buffet of awkwardness.
It’s my turn at the counter. I tell the clerk I’m not in a rush. Asking:
“Do you want to help her first? Just trying to make sure you don’t get killed, bro.”
(My contribution to the awkwardness)
A lady at the next counter bellows, “She already left. Fished her card out and looked super embarrassed.”
“As she should be,” adds an old man from the back of the line.
I finish my postal errands and walk past a Toyota in the parking lot. It’s her car. And she’s crying softly inside of it. Engulfed in a storm. She certainly doesn’t seem insane. And I can’t imagine she’s dangerous. Just looks like a person having a very hard time. Obviously, I don’t know a thing about her. Whether something was done to her today. Or long before. Maybe some urgent need to get that card back? Possibly to make it to a job she’s barely hanging onto? For all I know, it’s a paycheck that could be the only thing between her home and living on the street. It’s even possible I witnessed someone having the worst day of their life.
I don’t know if any of that is true.
Because I have none of the facts.
(And, clearly, I’m not a defender of disrespect)
But, looking into that car, it just feels like this person could desperately use a friendly interaction. A kind word or gesture. Maybe I have 5 seconds to provide a tiny moment of warmth?
I really want to say something. Even just ask if she’s ok. Something human.
But instead?
I freeze up.
Much like I did 30 years ago. The same way I have on many other occasions in between. All such different types of moments. But, in the end, it’s still a freeze job.
Screw that. It’s not my responsibility. And it isn’t my business. She was obviously wrong. This doesn’t concern me. I shouldn’t butt in.
(Even just to ask if she’s ok)
(Even if I know in my heart that she’s in need of kindness in this moment)
I keep walking…start the engine…drive away…
Reminding myself on the road home…
“I shouldn’t butt in.”
I seem to say things like that a lot. And it’s logical. Most things are, in fact, not my business. And, yes, I often could make things worse.
But there’s a nagging flip side here.
Looking back through the years, I’ve never felt good about these freeze jobs.
Maybe you can relate.
All the times we couldn’t speak. In all the different ways.
Maybe it’s easier to think stuff like…
“I could make things worse” or “I shouldn’t butt in”
…than it is to find the courage.
Maybe we just say those things to feel a little better about ourselves.
Or maybe that’s just me.
