We were all standing, some female colleagues and I, waiting for the light to change. She said something, looked at me directly and as I smiled and said hello, she pulled tight on a thin silver wire wrapped around both hands, about a foot of slack between them.  “I’d love to wrap this around your neck and pull until you die.”

And in that moment, my eyesight narrowed, I sized her up, and I turned into something I have never felt before and didn’t recognize.  I thought “Oh fuck yeah, woman. Give me a reason to end you.”  And I knew that I would and I could.  I could see a quantum reality where I grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the street until she was still, bloody, and quiet.  That seemed right and I really liked the idea.

We had some exchange.  I think I laughed at her.  At one point in the middle of the crosswalk, she turned and extended a fist my direction.  “You shouldn’t fuck with me.  I’m violent,” to which I said something smartass which I think was akin to “Right on, sister. I love that about you,” and felt one of my colleagues slide her arm through mine and pull me close to her.  I sped up and followed Dexter lady a little closer until it became clear she was way more scared than I was.

And god damn if I didn’t like it. I’ve never been in a physical fight.  I barely even argue with people.  But today, in that moment, I was excited.  I was curious.  I felt like, no matter what drugs were powering her unfounded audacity, I could have demolished that sad, angry woman.  And while she surely gets plenty of punishment from life itself and in no way deserves my childish fury, somehow right then she represented every little bullshit injustice we all suck up every day.  Every inhumanity.  Every insult.  Every disappointment.  Every tiny box that presses down on my head.  Every person who decides I don’t matter.  She became the symbol of my opportunity to crush all of it – right there, right in that moment.

And I assume my pent-up, sober, fully-present fury gave me crazier eyes than her meth, because after some deliberation she turned and walked away.  And I won’t pretend that I wasn’t disappointed, though I have now returned to the mental state I do recognize and am naturally wishing her safety and better days.  But also grateful that she showed me what I had no idea was resting silently inside me, waiting to explode.  As it turns out, I am pretty god damn pissed off deep down in there.  Who knew?