Tumultuous Thursday

I went out this morning at 4am, having been awoken from my slumber by a breeze most frigid. I stumbled over to my window, still-half asleep. As I reached for the latch to pull and close the window, I stopped dead in my tracks as I noticed a most perturbing surprise. It was snowing. Mind you this isn’t a rare occurrence in February, in Canada. However for me I still get the gleeful glow of a child witnessing his or her first snowfall. Although being Canadian myself, I had only had the opportunity to witness roughly 8 winters in my life, all of which were during my early childhood, when it’s still all fun and games.  I immediately sprung to life and slammed my window shut and went straight for my closet and dresser. I layered up, grabbed my keys and phone and headed out of my cluster unit into the stairwell and down and out to the majestic world. I walked around the sidewalks and pathways interwoven within the forest, until stopping at my favorite bench and street lamp to gaze at the gently falling snowflakes. It was dead quiet. Serene. All that could be heard was the occasional crackling of a melting snowflake on the hood of my jacket. It was a great feeling of both extreme calm, and rejuvenation. As I closed my eyes and breathed it all in, I felt as if all the problems in the world had melted away. I opened my eyes eventually and decided it was about time to make my way back home to make some tea and soup, and then head to bed. I glanced once more at some of the adjacent pathways, admiring how virginally untrodden they were, knowing full well that by midday they would be nothing but brown slush and discombobulated shoe imprints of students trudging off to their classes. I got within sight of my unit and pulled the keys from my pocket. As I looked up from my keys to the approaching door I heard a commotion from my left, I lifted my hood and turned in the direction of the disturbance. There standing across the street at another unit were three very wobbly men. I use the term men generously. One of them stepped forward and cupped his mouth with his hand, preparing to unleash a cacophony of sound my way.  “Yeah you, I said you faggot, I’ll drop you right now!”  I couldn’t believe it, “Truly is this happening, please tell me I’m overtired?” I asked myself. I decided to continue walking on, I was tired, cold, and never one to go looking for fights, especially ones where the odds are stacked against me.  The profanities flowed at an increased rate and with flare, but I didn’t care, I just kept on walking. However something caused me to pause about twelve paces from my unit door, this drunk hooligan had just sucked out all of the glorious feelings I had just kindled and had absolutely no grounds on which to do it, plus who on earth gets trashed on a Thursday? I spun around rapidly, which prompted immediate silence from the nagging trio. I addressed them forcefully “What did I ever do to you, I’m just walking home?” It seemed to stun them momentarily, somehow catching them off-guard.  They looked at each other and mumbled things too low for me to hear. Two of the guys slowly began marching off down the street, the other stayed back, facing me. He raised his hand to his face again, “Whatcha gonna do about it ya profanity, profanity, profanity?” Enough. I quickly went for my jacket zipper and in one quick motion unzipped and shrugged it off into the snow covered pavement behind me. I raised my fists and invited him to come on over. How on earth did I get myself into this, why all of a sudden was I going down this path? The only explanation I could find was that this little excuse for  an adult had shat all over the good peaceful vibes and experience I had just had. That made me angrier than any of the words he said, and that is what made me throw caution to the wind and put a fire in my chest that boiled over into my throat and fists. Adrenaline, nothing like it. I focused in preparing for the worst but expecting the best of myself, being completely sober and well-rested whilst they were in no condition to make coherent sentences. The two guys who had been making their way down the street turned and bolted. I took a deep breath and cursed under my breath, I hate fighting, and I hate it more when people get under my skin and suck me into a fight, but I had already self-justified the situation, I was fighting for those fucking snowflakes and giddy feels damn it!  Confusion and bewilderment swept across my face, as the two guys changed course for their remaining counterpart. They grabbed him forcefully and dragged him along, yelling at him “Come on bro lets go, don’t be fucking stupid!” , “Forget about it dude, your shittered.” I secretly applauded those two in my head for retaining some form of reasoning and logic at that moment. As the trio made its way down the street with the one guy still kicking and screaming along the way, I reached down and retrieved my jacket. I shook my head and loosened up. It was hard to relax after that, I must have spent a good ten minutes standing there in the snow, imagining pounding the living daylights out of this guy, but coming to the same conclusion every time, pitiful disgust. It was focused mostly on myself. As I mentioned previously I abhor conflict, it sickens me to the core, and paradoxically pisses me off.  I had had quite a few run ins in the three years I had spent at university so far, and always I had , except for two occasions,  kept walking onward with my head held high. Strange.  Three grown males acting like egotistical toddlers. I could more easily forgive the occurrence and shrug it off if it was not such a trend. Sadly, however, it seems like these types of encounters are common place in this woefully lost generation. I have to also comment that  this pertains specifically to the western cultured males, interesting how in all my travels and living in third world countries I saw less conflict there than I have in these quote on quote “developed” nations. The majority of the fights that occur here I notice are rooted deeply in the male youths identity crisis. There are no longer rights of passage for males in this society, or challenges for him to overcome and exert himself, so they try and create them from nothing, from peace they fabricate violence and the reason for it is more self-based than anything else, they are trying to prove their worth to themselves and others. For the most parts it is only ever chirping, and the moment someone stands up for themselves things end and people separate and move on with their existence. Alcohol helps elevate the level of engagement. The only fights I’ve ever witnessed or been a part of have been between/with complete drunkards full of testosterone and laughable ideals.  I hate stooping down to their level, but at the same time there are rare occasions on which I will speak their language, and challenge them on more than just a physical level. I will clash with their very spirits. The two fights I have ever been in, I won them through determination and bravado, and after both my opponent shook my hand and expressed a heartfelt respect for my abilities and character. Always I was surprised by this; I noticed this in the vast majority of these fights. A few mind you are truly nasty, raunchy and without mercy and with intent of true harm, which I feel could have been how this morning’s engagement could have turned out if I found myself out-numbered I would be forced to use my self-defensive maneuvers and maim and cripple my enemy. Back to my original point, these males seem to be unconsciously self-perpetuating some sort of social ritual akin to a character growth/proving arena.  After I digested these thoughts I slung my jacket over my shoulder and headed towards the door, amazed by the enigma of social constructs, group dynamics, and life in general. The best part of all as I laid down in my bed and prepared for rest, was that those giddy feels returned in a wave more profound and vibrant. I smiled gleefully, as I knew that snowflakes had not been the culprit of this surge, but something less romantic and ultimately more important.