Vol IV: #39 The Married Man and the Bizarre
When I walked into the prayer chapel on a sunny Sunday morning, the room was almost empty and nearly quiet. A lone man sat opposite the entrance and the worship music was off, or so I thought. Since I prefer the music, I glanced over at the control screen. On occasion, the screen is blank meaning it’s broken aka no music. And when I looked over at the screen I saw the name of a worship song and the progress bar below it. Then I reached for the volume nob beside the screen and turned the volume up, not too loud but enough to compete with the fountain in the center of the room.
Happy with my adjustment, I walked over to my favorite chair to begin my morning. Before I could take my seat, the stocky man quickly hurried over to me. And when he was close enough he launched into lecture on etiquette.
“Are you normally this rude?” he began.
Stunned by the question I stammered, “Huh?”
“It’s common courtesy to ask people to turn the volume up. I had the music off so I could listen to the fountain.”
“Well, this is a public space not your home. I can turn the music up.”
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? There are no rules here.”
And this confused me. How could he say I broke a social norm yet assert there were no rules? Unfortunately, I knew better.
“Oh yes, there are. Over there on the wall.”
At this he doubled down on his common courtesy logic. And part of me wanted to apologize, to smooth things over and make peace. But, I decided to stand up for myself.
“You’re joking, right?” I asked, still shocked by the man’s approach to the situation.
“No. I’m not,” he shot back with a glare.
“I’ve come almost everyday for the last four years and I’ve never seen anyone ask anyone else about the music.”
“Well, I’ve come here for 15 years. And you’re in the wrong.”
“You can’t be serious. All this over music. Are you proud of yourself right now?”
My last question landed on him and he paused, and being too stubborn to back down, he continued his assault.
“You’re a jackass,” he sniped as he walked over to the volume nob.
A million thoughts ran through my head and I searched for the right response.
“Are you ok, man?” I asked.
“I’m fine, you’re just one of the people who think you’re better than everyone else.”
“No. I don’t. I’m just not going to be talked to like that. Seriously, do you need someone to talk to? People who are “fine” don’t berate strangers in the prayer chapel.”
The argument continued for several more minutes. Me trying to connect to the man, while he continued to defend his weak position. And, I nearly laughed when he threatened to “beat [my] ass.” Trice. After the third threat, I motioned to the cameras on the wall and told him I’d let him beat my ass. Then, I’d use the video footage to pursue justice. “I’m not a cave man who solves my problems with violence,” I pridefully responded. He didn’t like that either.
At this point in the battle, he was seated in his chair and staring out a large window. A few yards away, I was on one knee, still asking if he was ok. Toward the end he wouldn’t look at me. Through logic and experience, I’d backed him into a corner and he was going to defend it to the end. And seeing no positive movement, I decided to give it rest and walked back to my chair while he continued to berate me from over his shoulder.
Finally, I relented,“Ok, man.You want to defend yourself and push everyone away, so be it. You’re getting what you want. I’m leaving. The room is yours.” And then, I grabbed my journal and made for the side exit. From my car, not thirty seconds later, I watched my assailant leave the prayer chapel too. How fucking absurd, I thought.
As I replayed that bizarre scene in my head (all day, the rest of the day), I tried to find a better response to the man’s initial insult. (And from my recollection, I’m ok with how I handled the moment, save a few words and the caveman thing. That was unnecessary. In the future, when someone comes guns a blazin’, I’ll simply ask what they want. Me and the married man could’ve avoided a lot of drama if I had the sense to ask “Hey man, what do you want right now?”)
I also thought about the wedding band on his thick ring finger, and his stocky frame. He had the build of construction worker or truck driver, and his worn off-brand black hiking boots indicated moderate economic ability- though you never know, some rich people are cheap as fudge. Assuming he is married with a family, perhaps that quiet moment in the prayer chapel was the only peaceful moment he’d had in days. Or, maybe he was stressed by the holidays? Who knows?
Ultimately, the man and his condition aren’t what matters to me. My goal was to love him the best I could despite his approach, because love- true love- isn’t something we switch off when life doesn’t go our way. Though the world says love is conditional, it isn’t. Jesus isn’t conditional. His love is pure and good all the time, even and especially in conflict. That’s why, today, I’m not a wreck. Despite my mistakes, I know I did my best. And I hope to do better in the future, the next time I dare touch a volume nob.
Lord, bless the married man and shower him with love. Forgive whatever offenses I gave, and I forgive his ill-considered words.
