Hey, You! Get Off A My Lawn!

Actually, there are no lawns at the corner of Fraser and 29th.

At least not on the southeast corner where the local Loblaws discount(ish) outlet reigns supreme. 

When I stopped by one evening last week on my way home from work the bike rack was already full. 

So I chained up to the no parking sign across the street and headed into the harsh neon to stock up on hard fibre and various other assorted sundry items.

When came back outside fifteen minutes later my shoulders sagged as I crossed the street and noticed that the headlight was no longer strapped to the handlebars of my bike.

I looked to the sky and took a long, slow breath while while I considered whether it was advisable to ride the few blocks home in the gathering dusk sans incandescence.

That's when I noticed the young kid sitting atop the now empty bike rack across the street in front of the store.

In that moment, to this old man's mind eye at least, the kid looked snotty, dismissive and downright shifty. 

I gave him a good stare as he pretended to look at his phone and, with righteous indignation simmering, I almost crossed over to ask him a question or two.

Now.

I wish I could say that the thing that stopped me was the wisdom of one of the kids in 'Reservation Dogs',  shown in the trailer above, who somehow seems to get along with everyone because of his credo, which is that he always does his best to treat everyone well in the hopes that they will do the same.

But no.

It wasn't anything that pure of heart, or even just plain reasonable, that led me to turn my bike the other way and head for home.

Instead, it was the gathering darkness.

Of course, later, as I was emptying my pack I found the light.

Clearly, this time the 'Sheesh' was all on me.

.