Today was interesting. I was in my acting class and the activity for the day was "Act out a time you felt like a hero with your group."
Man, I thought about it and there are very few times in my life where I've actually felt that way. I've done some crazy things, helped folks out of tight spots, hell even kept people from getting killed a few times.
But actually feeling like a hero?
Only one instance really came to mind. Everything else felt necessary. Felt like what you were supposed to do in the moment.
The thing that came to mind for me was, well, was a time when I was facing a drugged and drunken dealer who was violent and ready to act that way.
I can't tell you where I was before.
I can't tell you where I went after.
What I can tell you is that someone got a call from their friend.
Their boyfriend refused to get out of the car, had broken the windshield in their violence, and was...well in a state.
That person that got the call turned to me and asked "can you help."
My answer, was of course, yes.
I always try to help if I can.
We pulled up, the girl was standing outside of the car trying to talk the man into getting out. He was, refusing. I came up and got his attention. That's when time crystallized.
Angry he got out, nearly breaking the door off of it's hinges with the force that he kicked it open with.
I waved the two away towards my car getting them out of his line of sight.
I told him he needed to calm down.
He asked me why the fuck it was any of my business.
I just shrugged and said that he was making it my business.
His hand went behind his back and under his shirt.
I stood, hands in my coat pocket.s.
Cool, wet autumn air on my face.
I looked around to the gathering crowd and said he was making it a lot of peoples business.
His eyes darted furtively around.
I asked if he was staying there, if this was where his room was.
He nodded and his hand returned to his back and re tucked his shirt.
I told him, in a quite voice, that he should probably go sleep it off.
Maybe make sure he hadn't broke his hand.
He looked at me, his hand twitched towards his back again.
I didn't move, just smirked the way I do when I find something amusing.
I told him the girl was coming with me and her friend.
They got in her car and drove off as he headed towards his room.
I watched the door close behind him before I moved, then got in my car and went to a meeting point.
My hands only shook a little.
The weird thing is that during the scene in class my acting partner that was playing the part of the "boyfriend" was so convincing in her look and demeanor that the calm overtook me in that moment.
When I told the class that I had been "undercover" they were all very confused.
"Where are/you a cop?" The teacher asked.
No I answered and gave what I saw as my job description at the time.
A coordinator.
All I can say is "Watch the Salton Sea" and maybe it will make a little more sense.
But rather than a trumpet playing husband I was a do gooder with a chip on my shoulder the size of a moon and a self preservation streak the width of a micron.
Never carried a weapon save for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter or two.
Out of all of the shenanigans I've gotten up to over the years.
Out of all of the things I've done in my life.
Why did that make me feel like a hero?
Some of my classmates, as we were packing up our stuff and heading out, said nice things in the way of "encouragement?" "admiration?" I don't know, my mind was still feeling the cold wind on my face.
My only response to their retreating backs in a voice barley loud enough to be heard was "Do not confuse stupidity for bravery."
My old wounds ached with memory.
Tickling the depths of time and emotion as I felt the hole in my chest as though it had just happened.
Why did that moment make me feel like a hero?
Was it the chivalry of the moment?
Was it the calm, steely demeanor with which I handled the situation.
Was it that I convinced a drunken and drugged out angry kid that he should take a nap instead of doing something stupid?
That, that right there, I think is it.
Not that I was intimidating.
Not that I saved a damsel in distress.
Not that I busted a drug dealer.
None of that "heroic" nonsense.
I felt like a hero because no one got hurt aside from a cracked window.
That I gave someone in a stupid situation an out.
Honestly, most of the other people in class where much more heroic than I have ever been.
Comforting others, saving lives, making others feel cared for.
All I did was stand there and accept the possibilities in a cold logical form.
It just sounds "cool" because there was a gun and a drug dealer.
As "cool" as it all was it didn't stop the bullets that came later.
There is a difference about talking in front of a group who are listening and paying attention.
Between pontificating about it on the internet and being braggadocios about the idiocy of my youth with people that aren't really paying attention or are skeptical.
"He was the drug dealer and criminal" sorts of thoughts plain on their faces.
After we completed our little play in class I stood there as we were given feedback uncomfortably hoping not to be asked any questions.
Trying to avoid looking at anyone and seeing their reactions.
Feeling more in my own skin than I have for awhile.
Feeling naked and afraid.
Not feeling like a hero, but wishing I had chosen something like saving a kitten or something more...normal.
Less...me.
Hopefully, when I do finally crawl into bed in seventeen hours or so that the nightmares from that time don't keep me awake.
That the banging, barking, and voices on the other side of thin walls don't keep my heart pounding. Don't keep the survival instincts kicked into overdrive and ready to run into what ever danger my mind perceives.
Just exhausted, dreamless, unconsciousness, that lets me wake up feeling...if not refreshed... at least rested enough to run myself to exhaustion again.
For now, some food, maybe a nap, then some math to keep me distracted for a little while.
