The other night, we celebrated the birth of a very amazing human. [Of course, I was late to the birthday train, and, admittedly, this is not atypical for me (or anyone with that wildly good Chavie blood).] If I may say, I made a pretty stellar dinner. *wink* We’re talking wild caught cod tacos atop artisanal corn tortillas. A home made wasabi-hinted cabbage slaw to layer the flakey, perfectly cooked fish. And a quinoa-corn-black-bean-cilantro salad to accessorize the tacos. And the kicker! Those margaritas from this bar keep. Boy did they slip down easily! So, we dined. We dined, well.
With full and happy tummies, we elected to pin dessert for a night out. After all, the night was young, the birthday girl was wearing the most fabulous stilettos, and we were all in good spirits! So we mosey on down the road to a local speakeasy. Upon entry, we are enshrined with a majestic table filled with shiny, sparkly objects: bedazzled pasties and nipple rings!!! (Yeah. Like... what?) So we take our seat at the bar whose bar tend resembles something of a late-century newsie who’s so anti his own generation (perhaps century) that he comes across as exhausted and annoyed when asked to do his job. That or he’s just a secret serial killer by day. Either way, we proceed to order ‘speakeasy’ style drinks that are delivered to us in less than two jiffies by someone other than our bartender [yeah, go ahead and stroke your chin. This author was also a bit suspect… but to be fair, she was no less thirsty). Lo and behold, we entered this bar during the last half of a burlesque show! Disappointingly, however, we were only able to observe the audio component; the visual involved an extra ‘fee’ that apparently our group wasn’t keen on paying. But as we sipped our intoxicatingly smooth drinks, trust me, soon enough we got our show! The post-burlesque audience and entertainers began to infiltrate the bar. And, guys, I’ll tell ya. It’s amazing what a 50+ year old woman can do with a good deal of makeup, spanks, and an astute ability at making eye contact (to the point that you are the one who ends up feeling a little… ‘naughty’)! What a show, we thought, as we left the bar! Little did we know that this was just the beginning. So, we traipse our way back home. Step, step, stiletto, step step… Alas, before home could be reached, another show was before us. *Oh boy* How to describe this? How to describe a young man, in the prime of his age, acting beyond belligerently – to entertain a belligerent crowd? Well, here’s my best go at it. A severely drunk young man (likely flying high on something or some things as well) was being beat and dragged by another man (whom we could only assume was a manager or bouncer of a neighboring bar). “Where are the cops,” we wondered? I mean, the manager/bouncer of whatever bar must have called, right? They must be on their way… The drunken man was put into a sleeper hold by the bouncer/manager. He awakened though. Angrier still. Flailing and waving his arms, he then flooded the street. Broadway, mind you, is a three-lane, one-way street lined with restaurants, shops and BARS on both sides. On a Friday or Saturday night, the sidewalks are populated with pedestrians and the road is densely driven. Cars screeched to a halt to avoid hitting the man. Not only did the man not move out the way, he went right up to one of the cars – he even pressed his torso onto the hood of the vehicle! His yelling was mostly nonsense and inaudible. But the confusion and the fear of the driver of that vehicle were palpable. I proceeded to call 911. Screw it, I thought! Better have multiple calls in to the police than none. After what seemed like endless moments with the man pressing his body against a heap of metal that could have crushed his body and bones in mere seconds, the bouncer/manager returned to the scene. Again, he beat the furious drunk and dragged him, this time, to the other side of the street. The bouncer/manager (who we later learned, by the way, was just an average Joe; a ‘good’ Samaritan, some may say) asked for help to hold the unruly, drunken man down. So, three solid men pressed their entire body weights onto the ‘scene’, one of them being my boyfriend. It was described to me later that, although the guy was thin, he had superhuman strength. And this went on. The three men held him down for not moments, but minutes. “Where. Are. The POLICE?” I ask in complete bewilderment. As the minutes and seconds dragged on, the crowd began to multiply. Normal foot traffic heading from one bar to the next began to slow, halt and then huddle at the scene. Everyone wanted a piece of the action. The pinned man was angry and clearly wanted to instill anger in others; he shouted profanities, over and over, to an African American gentleman. He enraged a Middle Eastern man wearing a traditional head garb. After a while, his anger began to diffuse into a grave sorrow moan as he called out, repeatedly, for someone named Carlos. As I answered the police dispatcher’s questions – which become more irritating as the minutes went on without the arrival of a single officer – I noticed countless bystanders were actually creating video recordings of the whole hoopla on their cell phones!! “Oh lovely”, I think, “I’m going to be on YouTube tomorrow.” Several of the bystanders were even trying to interact with the restrained man! “Polo!” they shouted out, following each of the man’s calls for “Carlos”. What was this, to them? Just a joke? I urged people to move on. “Go to your bars, please!” I said. “This isn’t helping anyone” Some agreed. No one budged. Finally. Finally, law enforcement arrived. Not in the form of police, however. An ambulance and fire truck – lights ablaze – came buzzing down Broadway and relieved the three men of their holding positions. This whole ordeal left me with a flurry of thoughts, and even more questions. Where were the police officers that night? While this was all going down, two other squad cars whizzed by, completely ignoring our pitiful waves for help. What was this man going through? And what was he ON? How could have that situation been deescalated instead of painfully inflated? And perhaps most importantly, what in the hell is wrong with his fellow humanity? How can so many people passively observe such a scene? And worse, how can some of them actually prod and poke the situation by laughing and joking and taking videos with their smart phones? *Sigh* I guess… it’s all about the entertainment factor, right? Everyone wants a piece of the action. Everyone wants a SHOW. Even at the sacrifice of human decency. Alcohol. Sex. Drugs. Money. Power. Noise. Distraction. But this happens all the time. Every day. Let’s think about this as tonight many of us watch the second Republican national debates. We fully expect Donald Trump to provide a wildly entertaining evening, even amongst the most tired and vanilla of his counterparts. Even if you don’t get into politics in America, people know, this debate is bound to serve up a big ole plate of delicious crazy. Constant entertainment seems to be the modern human narrative. Think about it! It’s like... what we’re all about! But why? Why is this our story? I wonder… what if that outrageously drunk and high, emotionally enraged man was all alone? What if he were by himself in the middle of an old forest? Who would be there to hold him down? Would he need to be held down? What’s the worst that could happen? There’s no one else he could hurt. Sure, he could punch a tree. But I think his hand would hurt enough the first time to prevent him from going at it again. Frankly, I don’t want this to be our narrative. It saddens me. Living life for a constant show or endless entertainment is not really living at all. And when we face the challenges we face today – yet distract ourselves with constant entertainment – not only is this sad, it ought to be illegal. We’ve got to slow down. We’ve got to get our heads out of our cell phones and get quiet. I think we could all use a healthy dose of Mother Nature – even when she’s having a crabby day. And we definitely – definitely – need to find some compassion and let it enter our hearts through and through. When we can understand that we’re all humans and we’re all in this together – together, with our Earth and with all the Earth’s many beautiful ecosystems and living organisms – maybe we can do something worthy of the history books. But man! The time is now. It aint gonna get any easier. So hey! Let’s decide, together, to not be a part of the show. Just say no ;) Thanks for those of you who read this blog. Reading, I think, is a great way of ‘getting quiet’.
Lauren
10/28/2015 08:11:02 pm
Never thought your story would take that turn. I'm glad none of you got hurt though. Only Vanessa could turn a burlesque story into a 911 call into a Dontald Trump mention. Love you- and your thoughts. Comments are closed.
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AuthorVanessa Ann, a writer and environmentalist. She possesses a Master of Applied Science in Environmental Policy & Management from the University of Denver. Her writing, at times, can be... a little sarcastic with just a dash of snarky. Archives
June 2019
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Vanessa is also a long-time contributing author (and former President) for the Sustainability Alliance of the University of Denver. Check out her published newsletters here: Some Say the Debate is Over. Yet the Heat Won’t Seem to Go Away, November 2016 Corn. It’s In Everything & It’s No Bueno for the Environment, February 2016 The Pursuit of Sustainability, August 2015 |
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