assholes and angels

I suppose it started on Saturday. I woke up to what is possibly the most beautiful day I’ve seen since I came to the UK. It was sunny, bright, crisp but warmer than usual… all of the elements that bring people, bleary eyed, out of hibernation… one of those days that makes you realize spring is coming. (YEAH!)
I put on some workout clothes and running shoes, grabbed my ipod, put Dex on the leash, and headed out to explore.
Dex and I walked up into Harrow On The Hill proper, which is really only about 10 minutes away from me (albeit uphill the whole way) and in our exploration of the old buildings and church and school grounds came across a big beautiful track. There were about 100 people nearby playing tennis on the 10+ tennis courts and countless others whacking golf balls on the nearby hill and sitting and chatting on the surrounding benches.
The track was inviting to me… I’ve been running regularly with Dex on the streets and paths around my house, but can’t remember the last time I ran a measurable distance and timed myself. I took Dex off the leash (he’s very good about heeling and staying right next to me) and proceeded to run a mile. We’re not going to discuss times, because it’s nothing to be proud of, but it felt good.
We walked around a little more afterward, Dexter was praised by random passers-by, we played in the grass on the hill behind my house, and finished our little outing.

Fast forward to Monday (sparing you the gory details of the rest of my weekend)…

Spring is truly on it’s way… Ever since I started working here I have arrived at work in the dark and left work in the dark. I’ve taken to wearing my running clothes to work so that as soon as I get home I can throw Dexter on the leash and run in whatever twilight remains. Monday the sun was still out when I got home, so I decided to head up to the track again and time myself running another mile. I was in a great mood… excited about my new discovery… happy about the sunshine… pleased with my own dedication… all good.
Half way through my mile I notice a guy standing on the side of the track with his dog (a black lab) yelling and gesturing at me. I pop out my headphones and “damn, there goes my time” walk over to him.

I promise… the things to follow are no exaggeration.

He is screaming at me…. SCREAMING.
“What the f*** are you doing?!? You can’t have a dog on the track!!! What is your problem!!”
I’m a little shocked, not sure how to answer, and can only stammer out an “Excuse me…?”
“I said what the F*** is your problem!! You can’t have a f***ing dog on the track!! You have to wear special shoes to even BE on this track! How f***ing stupid can you be?!?! How f***ing ignorant are you?!”
At first I’m a little defensive and I try to explain that he’s just a puppy (with trimmed nails), we were only running on the track, we didn’t go on the grass (the only signs that I can see say to stay off the grass). I try to explain we didn’t mean any harm by engaging in running on a track :::gasp::: and I was unaware of any special requirements to use the track. The whole time he is screaming over me. Then:
“You are so f***ing stupid!! There are signs EVERYWHERE!” (at which point he gestures to a sign on the opposite side of the track from which I entered by a public road).
I walk over to the sign which says:
“Harrow School Track
Please contact Headmaster prior to use.”
(as he continues to curse and berate me at the top of his lungs)

Again, I try to explain I didn’t see the sign, as I had come down the public road on the other side of the track and not the small path that led past the sign… I try to explain that I meant no harm and I didn’t know… I try to explain that I had been here on Sunday and engaged in the same ‘outrageous behaviour’ with about 200 witnesses (none of whom said anything to me) but I can’t barely get a word in as he continues to, and I am being literal here, scream at the top of his lungs all the curse words and personal insults he can think of.
Finally I just pick up Dexter (who can’t figure out what is going on, and why he can’t play with the black lab) and start to walk away.
“I’m sorry for running on a track. I didn’t know. I’m leaving”
“I’m going to call f***ing security on you. I’m getting someone down here. I just can’t believe how f***ing stupid you are. Ignorant American!!”

Now, I know this may be hard for some of you to believe… but up to this point I have neither raised my voice, insulted him, nor even cursed (and I am known for having the mouth of a truck-driver). I think, honestly, I was just so taken by surprise I didn’t know how to respond… BUT, with this final threat and insult I turn and scream back at him,
“CALL F***ING SECURITY. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO TELL THEM?? Somebody is RUNNING ON A TRACK?!? I’m already leaving, but go ahead and call! ASSHOLE!!!” (I don’t think it’s possible to put more venom into that one word, but if I could have, I would have.)

So I leave the track… in a state of shock. I head home and am, of course, hit with the dozen or so things I should have done differently.
Part of me wishes I had a big, mean looking dog scare him with. (I know a 20-something woman and her yellow-lab puppy aren’t exactly intimidating.)
Part of me wishes I had found a large rock to hit him over the head with, or possibly a stick to take to his kneecaps.
Part of me wishes I had let him call security, maybe on the hopes that what I was doing wasn’t actually as terrible as he was saying/screaming (nobody said anything on Sunday, after all).
Part of me wishes I had called security myself, and when they arrived played the ‘this man just attacked me’ bit… see if I could squeeze out some tears and hysteria and get him arrested.
Mostly, I just wish I had said something along the lines of,
“There are a dozen ways you could have told me I shouldn’t be running on this track and you picked the meanest, nastiest way possible. You are a bully and a horrible man and you should be ashamed of yourself.”

I know it lacks the zing of some of my other ideas… but the dramatic difference between the class in that statement and the ridiculousness of his behaviour would have left me feeling like the much bigger person… not that it would have gotten through to him.

Anyway, as I’m trudging home… angry, frustrated, berating myself… I round the corner and bump into my neighbour, Maggie. Maggie the classic kind, British-Grandma type that lives next door, and she has been lovely to me since the day I moved in. Maggie has a big black, grizzly German-Shepherd-mix named Jack that she has walked twice a day, every day, for the last 11 years… as she was when I bumped into her. She said hi, asked me what was wrong, and I unloaded my story on her. (Just what the doctor ordered.)
When I finished, she asked me “Is this a middle aged man with a black Labrador?”
“Yes, yes it is! You know him?!”
“Oh yes, I know him. He tried to tell me off once for having Jack off the lead. I gave that rude man a piece of my mind. He is a terrible man. You didn’t know honey, and you did nothing wrong… he’s just an awful man who takes out his unhappiness on other people.”

We walked together up the hill, through a 100+ year old graveyard and Church, down some paths and back home again. Call it luck, fate, or divine intervention, but having somebody to talk to was exactly what I needed, and running into Maggie was the best thing that could have happened.

I bought Maggie flowers the next day... and I'm still considering going back to the track with a rock for Asshole.