Stopped at an intersection, late on my way to work this morning, I sat and watched a large Arrowhead water truck turn onto the road ahead of me. In doing so, about a dozen large, full water-cooler-sized water bottles came flying out of the side of the truck, spilling all over the road and sidewalk. Luckily, no one was walking (no one walks in this city) down the sidewalk at the time. The light turned green, and I deliberated with myself as to whether or not I should pull over and help clear the bottles before they became any more of a problem to the heavy morning traffic.
I did not stop. I continued on my way, justifying my lack of participation by the late time and my crunch to get to the office on time. As I passed, I saw a homeless man approach the Arrowhead employee, and help him by clearing the street of the debris.
I hated myself for not pulling over. Living in Paris, I continually watched old women stumble in the subway, businessmen drop their belongings, and I always tried to lend a hand. So many people made an effort to look the other way, walk faster, change direction, all so they didn't have to participate. I hated this, and only hoped that one day when I would land flat on my face, that I wouldn't be treated as sidewalk roadkill.
The fact that this has been plaguing me for the last 6 hours reassures me in believing that I am not a completely lost cause, but the fact that I even did this makes me fear for the effect that this city, and the haste that it employs in it's citizens, has taken on me. I am promising myself that I will continue to acknowledge the people and events that surround me, and not to ignore or reject them so I can continue on my way.
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