Yesterday was the first day that that man could drive his Hummer in New York City with reason. I’m sure he was proud.
Like the rest of this post-apocalyptic world we are living in without completely realizing it, we are covered in snow. The night before had been a misadventure to see Tron – an hour and a half of The Dude being surprised by how cool computers are – through what seemed like Antarctic conditions, if Antarctica were full of stalling cars instead of penguins. Our 3D glasses providing wind protection, we trudged through feet of snow passed people choosing to spend the night in bodegas and toward the warmth of a friend’s couch.
There was a man walking by us with a crutch as we struggled with the lock of our entrance. Through three feet of snow, one man was hobbling and using a hunk of metal as his other leg to attempt to reach his destination.
Did we help him? Did we offer to put him up for the night? Did we stare awkwardly attempting to decide if either of these things were valid to do?
I still feel terrible.
I feel terrible because my thought process was: “I don’t need to help him because no one else will. He can’t be mad at me because I’m not treating him worse than other people are treating him. He’s not going to specifically point out me as an asshole – I’m just part of asshole culture.”
After our first apocalyptic adventure with a tornado everyone helped out everyone else, but now we film each other struggling with cars.
I don’t think it’s time that has jaded us, I think it’s cold that has made us less willing to help our fellow citizen. Fuck cold.
Also fuck myself.