A hazy tradgedy

I've been busy the last couple of weeks. It's been a lot of fun but not particularly noteworthy. I spent last week in a city called Delpht with some of Freek's friends. They were very nice and it was fun to see a different city.

However, this post isn't about that. Freek and I were on our way back from Northern Holland where we had spent the weekend. We had a 15 or 20 minute layover in a city called Utrecht, which is a central hub for trains.

We were sitting on the bench just hanging out when this (apparently homeless) man came up to us and began asking for money. Freek, not having any money told me that if I wanted to I could give him some. So I gave the guy one Euro. He had some postcards that he wanted to trade with me (they were free postcards that he had taken from somewhere). I placed my wallet on the bench next to me as he began to show me the postcards. However, my wallet slipped off the bench. I wasn't worried about it, I knew exactly where it was. The man, ostensibly to show me the postcards better, bent down on one knee. As he did so he scooped up my wallet.

Seeing this (just barely) I said to him “Hey man, give me my wallet back”. He said he didn't have it. I stood up (as did he) and said again “Hey, giving me my fucking wallet, I saw you take it”. Luckily for me (and not for him) he was pinned in by the glass of the waiting area. Again he denied any knowledge of the wallet. So, with some profanities, I pushed him up against the glass.

He was a big guy, maybe 6' 3''. But he was fat, and as I quickly realized, completely out of it. Maybe he was stoned, drunk or mentally sick, whatever it was, there wasn't much he could do. I had the advantage.

I asked (kind of) for my wallet back, again. He told me (again) that he didn't have it. He told me to search him. So, I turned him around and lifted up his shirt, and sure enough (much to my relief) there it was, stuck into his boxers.

I took it back and told him to get out of there. Before he left I took a few of the postcards (maybe just a little bit spiteful). Freek was in the process of calling the police and the guy made a hasty retreat.

We ended up talking to two officers and tried to give them a description. Some friendly spectators who had seen the whole encounter helped fill in the detail. At this point and for the next 10 or 20 minutes I was shaking with a mix adrenaline, fear and self-righteous anger. If I had lost my wallet I would have been royally screwed.

And then the adrenaline began to wear off. And I remembered how it felt, to grab this fully grown man, and realize that he was defenseless, truly helpless against me, a 19-year-old brat on a world wide romp.

I felt like crying. All I could see was the little kid in that man. The little kid that, no doubt grew up in a hopeless situation. Somehow, somewhere he wasn't loved. Somebody didn't hold that kid. And that kid grew up into this man. A man, who tried to steal from someone who was giving him charity. But in my wallet I had 150 Euros, plus a bank card with access to five times that. So, giving him one Euro was almost an insult

I'm not saying I didn't do the right thing (if there is such a thing as the right thing). But the disparity of the situation, the tragedy of it is mind boggling.

I have everything. I'm strong, fit, rich, and loved. I'm protected by the law from men like him. He is outside of the society, even with the advanced state of Holland's social services he is still dangerously close to the edge.

And he shouldn't steal from people. We have to be protected from people like that.

We and them. We being the ones in power.

I know that what happened, how it happened, had to happen as it did. I need my money, my ID all that jazz. It's true I do need it.

But I still can't get that image of me shoving a little kid up against a glass partition. Me in all my righteous anger manhandling someone with absolutely nothing.