Iwas fortunate enough to vacation with my family in San Francisco this summer. I wouldhighly recommend it as a destination to anyone looking for spectacular scenery, perfect climate and excellent food. It was also a place where I learned one of life's hardest lessons.
It was early one morning and my father and I had made an expedition on foot to a Starbucks about six blocks from the hotel to get some coffee for the family. We loaded up on some scones and I was charged with carrying all four drinks in a cheap cardboard carrier that looked flimsier than most dorm chairs. We were headed back uphill toward the hotel -- and anyone who has visited San Fran knows that "uphill" means "90-degree angle."
Everything was going just fine until we reached the block right before the hotel. The crowds had generally parted for us, which was a good thing because in my awkward position I was no more maneuverable than the Titanic. I was beginning to feel more at ease, a feeling that was quickly stripped from me by an encounter with him.
"Him" refers to a tall, lanky, bearded man with a backpack who, I would estimate, last showered in 2002. His eyes were locked on me like a predatory animal, and he moved toward me with incredible speed. He had a well-crafted plan for his life in his head, and it involved taking me OUT.
He laid into me like a well-trained hockey player, or an escapee from anger management therapy. The blow, perfectly timed, pushed me back a few feet and sent most of the drinks hurtling in the direction of the waterfront, which they may or may not have reached.
Immediately I knew the outcome of the situation would depend on how I reacted to it. With that in mind, my first reaction was to scream like a little girl, a response which I felt properly expressed my rage.
After that, I was frozen in indecision. Should I wait for an apology? Say something sarcastic? Drop the remaining drink (a decaf skim no-whip double-shot hold the mayo and onions grande cappuccino) and go Van Helsing on his behind?
Unfortunately, the mystery man took the decision out of my hands by offering me a few choice, unprintable words, and taking off. It was the best choice available to him, given that he had about 10 seconds to live.
We came back to the hotel and I ate my scone in an angry silence. Finally I couldn't take it any more, so I put my shoes back on and returned to the scene of the crime. It was easy to tell where that was -- there were some lovely splatters all over the sidewalk and, to the delight of all the people walking by, it smelled strongly of caramel. I suppose I thought the mystery man might have come back to crow over what he had done and that I could get some revenge. He, of course, had undoubtedly learned I was looking for him and was in hiding.
This incident affected my life in profound ways. I learned the meaning of patience, the importance of dealing with things in nonviolent ways, and that, no matter how many iced mochas you lose in the sewer, there's always another one. I also got a very cool stain on my T-shirt in the shape of Elvis's head, which will be sold on eBay in a few days.
I think this story is also one from which others can learn. First, always protect your coffee. I don't mean to suggest that there are psychos waiting around every corner to bum-rush you on the way out of the store, but we live in crazy times. Cradle any and all hot drinks as you would a football, and just try to forget how you look while doing this. I promise I won't laugh.
In a broader sense, we all will eventually be confronted with people or situations that come out of nowhere and blindside us, dealing us temporary setbacks and leaving us somewhat shocked. The true test of character is being able to pick oneself up and carry on.
The remaining drink, which my family split four ways, tasted like grit, determination and virtue. I wish it had tasted like coffee, but it was nevertheless satisfying. Bearing that in mind, enjoy our great University, and don't let life get you down. And if your inner Van Helsing comes knocking, don't let him out.
Matt's column runs bi-weekly on Fridays. He can be reached at mwaring@cavalierdaily.com.
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