World Population: Just under 1,000 and climbing (Part 1)

So this blog entry is the first part of many that will follow periodically. It will all make sense once I’m done, I promise. But here’s a story to kick things off.

My wife and I lived in a beautiful waterfront building in downtown Vancouver. One late afternoon, I got off the bus about a block and half away from our building and was about to cross the street when a group of teenagers caught my attention.

They were loud and dressed in puffy jackets, loose jeans, brand name runners that were pricier than my whole outfit and wore “fake” diamond stud earrings that were brighter than the sun. They were wearing their baseball caps sideways and smoking cigarettes.

There were warning alarms going off everywhere in my head telling me to avoid eye contact, even though they were across the street and about 400 feet away. Suddenly, I felt a chill down my spine. I knew this was going to be trouble.

My brain was telling me to stay calm: Breath deeply and don’t show fear.

After about a minute or two, the cross walk light changed and it was time for me to cross the street and walk towards the teens. In the last second I changed my mind and decided to walk in the opposite direction.

That’s when I heard the laughter, which was followed by the sound of rapid footsteps getting closer and closer. My heart started to pound and I broke into sweat. Every martial arts move that I learned in my Jujitsu and self-defense classes ran through my head.

I went through the self-check process: I had my cell-phone at hand and was ready to dial 911; I had my backpack to defend against knives and other “concealable” weapons; I had my voice to scream for help if needed. But most importantly, I had to stop sweating and lower my blood pressure since my body was freezing with every passing second.

I looked back quickly to see how much ground those teens had gained on me. Oh no, there they were: Shaved heads covered by their fashionably placed sideway caps, pimply faces, and wobbly runs since their pants could barely stay on their hips. I was ready to throw the first punch (or so I thought I was ready) when one of them jumped on my back and gave me a big bear hug. Out of breath, I looked over my shoulder and there was my brother, on my back, and his childhood friends lining up behind him and anxiously waiting to say hi to me.

What a relief; I was going to live to see another day after all! Since then, I have promised not to judge others by what they wear.

Thanks for reading,

Armin

PS. This is a story from a decade ago, when my brother was in his late teens. Since then, his choice of clothing has changed from “sloppy and expensive” to “classy and moderately priced / expensive”.

PPS. For the record, my brother has always been one of the nicest, well mannered and kindest human beings to ever walk the surface of this earth. He couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted to… but he sure knows how to break his girlfriends’ hearts.



Me and my good looking brother on the left!