People on Power Trips are the worst, and I have encountered many of these people over the years. And on more than one occasion, I have attempted to engage in respectful discourse with these individuals. However, these interactions generally lead to an abrupt cessation of two-way conversation followed by a condescending diatribe…and then three of my least favorite words:
“Do you understand?”
Thank you for asking, Insecure Little Man! I actually have more college degrees than the number of words contained in your inane last sentence, so yes, I think I understand!
And apparently I was perceived as a Major Threat even as an adolescent.
I was a Freshman in High School, and I was riding my bike home from baseball practice on a frigid February day. Now, this bike wasn’t just your standard cruiser…it was a CHOCOLATE MILK BIKE that I had won in some sort of raffle at Dairy Days. This bike had the iconic “Got Milk?” logo emblazoned all over the frame along with spots intended to look like a cow, and this vehicle served as my primary means of transportation until I got my Driver’s License.
And once again, it was FEBRUARY IN IDAHO. And even though I probably weighed about 108 pounds at the time, the 4 jackets I wore over my baseball uniform made me look like I could be related to the Michelin Man. My baseball bag and my school backpack were both asymmetrically slung over my left shoulder (had to protect the Golden Right Arm for pitching), so I had to rely on my precocious core strength to prevent me from tipping over as I pedaled. And to top it off, I was wearing a Styrofoam helmet…Mom never allowed me to get on the bike without it. You know, protection for that Special Brain.
So as I wobbled comically down Pine Avenue, I came to the final intersection prior to arriving at home. And there was ONE CAR at the intersection. I locked eyes with the driver, who was laughing at either my undignified plight, my outlandish wardrobe, or both, and he mercifully waved me across the street. I breathed a sigh of relief; dismounting in my current state would have been a Fall Risk in and of itself!
And then, one block from my house, a police car screeched to a halt in front of me. A paunchy, mustachioed sheriff leaped out of his vehicle and pointed an accusatory finger at me.
“Son, you put yourself AND OTHERS at risk back there! Have you ever been in trouble with the law before?”
Using a nearby mailbox to brace myself as I nearly fell off my Chocolate Milk Bike, I dismounted and waited for further explanation. Apparently Michelin Jr. with the Styrofoam Helmet struck this guy as a budding criminal. The magnetic appeal of the Thug Life was, after all, quite strong in Inner City Meridian, Idaho.
“No, sir,” I meekly replied.
Glaring at me, he curtly said, “I’m going to need to see some ID.”
Removing my lunchbox, a couple of exquisitely shaped pinecones, and my friend’s half-eaten Hotpocket that I had traded him earlier for my cheese sandwich, I rummaged around in my backpack and eventually unearthed my FRESHMAN YEAR ACTIVITY CARD. And then I had to take off my helmet so he could verify my identity.
After several tense moments, he was apparently satisfied that he had correctly identified the perpetrator…the same juvenile delinquent in the picture matched the Styrofoam Gangster Ridin’ Dirty on Lactose-Themed rims.
“Well, I’m going to let you off easy this time. You really should have walked your bike across the intersection back there. Don’t let it happen again. Do you understand?”
Yes, sir. I understood then. And I still understand now.
People on Power Trips are the worst. But meeting those people results in the best stories😊
