Down Town

Venturing out into downtown Hamilton was never frightening when I was younger and/or drunk. But things have changed.

D and I went out for a slice of pizza last week and we passed a disheveled, if not handsome younger man in the street. As he walked by he glared at me and said "...do you think you can read my mind?"

His intonation was the odd part. It wasn't like the thought just popped into his head. It was more like the end of a long rant. It felt like he had been arguing with me long before I knew he was there. I ignored him and hoped he'd continue his argument with the next person he passed in the street.

Then last night, some guy started to yell at us while we walked up King St. He was yelling something about a dog and all I could see was a pit bull running up the street for us. In my mind, I could see the headlines about the city's latest pit bull attack with me as the victim.

We just stood to the side and the dog, thankfully, ran right by us. Then the owner came running up and said "I told you fucking assholes to stop my dog." I couldn't believe it.

First, I don't take orders from short strangers with mullets. Second, I'm not about to challenge a pit bull. I don't care if it could run into traffic. That's what leashes are for and that dog wasn't my responsibility. I might have gone out of my way for a golden lab or a jack russell terrier but not for a pit bull. Sorry.

I wanted to call the man a fucking idiot but I could see from the number of teeth he was missing that he'd been in his share of fights. I decided that I was unlikely to intimidate him. Besides, a short man who needs a pit bull to walk down the street with confidence probably carries a weapon.