cell phones in my neighborhood
Mar. 11th, 2009 11:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
adrian_turtleI was walking down Mass Ave when I saw a commotion in a gas station parking lot. I could tell a couple of people were shouting at each other, but they were on the other side of the pumps so I couldn't see them very clearly. It sounded like a fight starting to spiral out of control, and I wanted to run away. There were a handful of other people in the parking lot, but they seemed to be backing away as shouting escalated to slaps and pushing. I'm not sure what happened next, but I heard what sounded like a scream of serious pain.
As they moved into the parking lot, closer to me, their yelling sounded sort of like resentful protesting. I heard, "Hey! Quit it!" and thought momentarily of pestering my little brother in the back seat. From a distance, they looked like young men who knew each other. There might be reasons the two of them wanted to carry on like that.
Then the pushing and complaining broke into a scuffle, that ended with one half-dragging the other towards the street. The one being dragged was still more or less on his feet, but he kept trying to break away so they weren't moving fast. I went around to make eye contact with him, and realized he wasn't a young man--he looked about 12, and there are different implications when a 12-year-old bumps horns with a man in his 30s than when a couple of 16 year olds mess with each other. From 10 feet away, I asked if he was ok, and he shouted, "No!" and renewed his efforts to break away. He was crying when he said, "Please help, he's hurting me!"
The man holding him yelled at me to mind my own business and leave him alone. "He's mine! You stay out of it and let me handle him!" I raised my hands in the traditional gesture of surrender and backed away. It made me sick to feel safer knowing his hands were full. They stood and watched me for a moment as I stepped away, making sure I was retreating to Mass Ave. Then the man resumed dragging the boy towards the side street. And I called 911. When the conflict started and other observers walked away, I don't know if one of them called 911. One thing about cell phones is that you can report a situation of interest to the police, quite close to other people who need not have any idea you're doing it.
I heard the boy screaming as the man pulled him behind a nearby house. He shouted, "Somebody please help me!" and "That's not my dad!" just it says to do in the "Stranger Danger" pamphlets the local little girls bring home from school. It was wrenching to know he believed I had backed down and didn't want to help him. (But of course my comfort is not the point.) I was a block away when the police car pulled up. I don't know what happened next.
As they moved into the parking lot, closer to me, their yelling sounded sort of like resentful protesting. I heard, "Hey! Quit it!" and thought momentarily of pestering my little brother in the back seat. From a distance, they looked like young men who knew each other. There might be reasons the two of them wanted to carry on like that.
Then the pushing and complaining broke into a scuffle, that ended with one half-dragging the other towards the street. The one being dragged was still more or less on his feet, but he kept trying to break away so they weren't moving fast. I went around to make eye contact with him, and realized he wasn't a young man--he looked about 12, and there are different implications when a 12-year-old bumps horns with a man in his 30s than when a couple of 16 year olds mess with each other. From 10 feet away, I asked if he was ok, and he shouted, "No!" and renewed his efforts to break away. He was crying when he said, "Please help, he's hurting me!"
The man holding him yelled at me to mind my own business and leave him alone. "He's mine! You stay out of it and let me handle him!" I raised my hands in the traditional gesture of surrender and backed away. It made me sick to feel safer knowing his hands were full. They stood and watched me for a moment as I stepped away, making sure I was retreating to Mass Ave. Then the man resumed dragging the boy towards the side street. And I called 911. When the conflict started and other observers walked away, I don't know if one of them called 911. One thing about cell phones is that you can report a situation of interest to the police, quite close to other people who need not have any idea you're doing it.
I heard the boy screaming as the man pulled him behind a nearby house. He shouted, "Somebody please help me!" and "That's not my dad!" just it says to do in the "Stranger Danger" pamphlets the local little girls bring home from school. It was wrenching to know he believed I had backed down and didn't want to help him. (But of course my comfort is not the point.) I was a block away when the police car pulled up. I don't know what happened next.
