compulse

Last Thursday I stopped in at the Walgreens on Mission at 16th after work and encountered a ruckus at the entrance. A tall, young, white man with short-cropped hair was yelling at a squat, Latino man in a wheelchair with what appeared to be a freshly amputated leg. The wheelchair-bound panhandler was shrieking, and as I stepped into the store I heard his aggressor yell something along the lines of, “What are you going to do about it, huh? Why don’t you get up and fight?” I shook my head, found what I was looking for, saw the line I’d have to wait in to buy it, changed my mind, and left.

When I came out the front door they were still at it. As I walked past them I imagined what I would tell those guys if I cared. Then, in that same moment, I realized that I did care, so I said something. I stopped, turned to the white man, and said, “Hey, I don’t know what you’re yelling about, but I doubt that it’s worth your time. You should just let it go and move on.” He turned to me, and for a moment it seemed as though he was just going to start yelling at me instead. But I stopped him before he could say anything, gestured southward with my hands, and repeated myself: “Just move on.” He froze for a beat, looked down at his feet, took a deep breath, then looked back up at me and said, “You know what? You’re right.” ”Thank you,” he said as he followed me to the corner, leaving a very perplexed paraplegic panhandler in his wake.

He didn’t tell me how he’d gotten into the argument in the first place. He said that he’d been in Iraq and Afghanistan, and that he’d seen some serious shit. He was probably in his late 20s—my age, maybe a few years younger. I told him that he clearly had more important things to worry about than some crazy guy hanging out in front of the Walgreens at 16th and Mission, and he agreed. We stopped at the corner when it was clear that we were parting ways and he looked me in the eyes and said, “Thank you. I really needed that.” I extended my hand, but rather than shake mine he opened his arms wide, and cocked his head slightly in that way that people do when they’re unsure whether you’ll actually hug them. I did hug him, speechless but sympathetic, then smiled warmly, wished him luck, and went along my way.