Revelations

A few days ago,
I missed my chance to be a hero.

I watched a man steal a bike.

Right in front of me,
underneath the Sheridan Redline stop,
in broad daylight.

I was walking home from Jeremy Witteveen's house,

As I approached the train stop,
I saw a homeless man, obviously homeless,
I don't mean to stereotype, but the guy was
fucking homeless.

He had dirty clothes, a few bags,
a cup for change, and a brand new bicycle seat.

Wait... a brand new bicycle seat?

As if the homeless man had commuted
from the suburbs, but didn't want anyone
stealing his Trek 480G Extra-Comfort Bike
seat with special gaps to protect your
testicles from riding wear?

That got my spider-sense tingling.

"...that's not right..."

As I walked past him.
tsk tsk-ing to myself,
I noticed another man,
5'6, latino, unkempt,
eyeing the bikes locked on the rack.

I was suspicious, from the bike seat observation,
I knew there was crime afoot.

I watched him, he eyeballed me.

I wanted to remain somewhat inconspicuous,
so I walked past, and stopped to look at imaginary
fruit in a store window.

I glazed over the make-believe plums and pears,
while watching the man in my periphery.

He glanced both ways,
he looked around,
people walked by,
he looked more closely
at a specific bike,
and backed up again.

I knew he was up to something,
I went inside the store,
reading invisible magazines,
and watching him like a hawk.

And then,
unbelievably,
he produced enormous wire cutters.

I'm talking about wire cutters that could
trim hedges, big hedges.

Big, green hedges made of stainless steel.

He pulled these out in broad daylight,
with passers by a-plenty,
and started hacking at the chain lock.

This was a braided-cord type lock,
diligently threaded through the front
wheel and frame.

He was hacking away,
I couldn't take it.

I walked out,
marched up,
and faced my enemy.

"hey.... are you stealing this bike?"

no reply.

"hey..... hey... you're stealing this bike."

......

"you can't steal this bike!"

"this my bike.. (heavy accent)"

"then why are you cutting the lock off?"

"this.... my bike (almost in a daze)"

Well,
shit.

I thought for sure my bold confrontation
would frighten him away, scurrying like an ewok.

But... he held his ground.

And now I had to battle a man who was
obviously not afraid to break rules,
and who held in his hands wire-cutters that
could slice through time.

shit.

Look!
yonder...
a police car across the street!

"well... hey... I'll see what those police have to say..."
I say to the man.

I walked to the patrol car,
it was empty, of course.

I looked around,
hoping they would appear.

they didn't.

damn cops,
they're always
there when I get caught,
never when I'm trying to save the day.

I walked back,
he was still there,
hacking away at the stubborn lock.

I'll say this about corded locks,
they don't really work, but they make it more
difficult to steal.

I was at a loss,
I went into the station,
I told the CTA employees
there was someone stealing a bike,
out front, for the last 6 minutes.

I don't know if you have ever seen
CTA employees, the ones that sit
in the booths at the stations?

9 out of 10 are heavy set black women
over forty.

Zoom... no one screams onto the scene
like an overweight black woman over forty.

As she walked out to the bike rack,
I shaved twice and read a book,
by the time she reached the thief,
he was gone, and the bike with him.

It was a girl's bike,
so at least he'll look stupid riding it.

I tried, I did something.
I should have felt good.

But I know I didn't do enough.

I should have yelled,

"HEY!!!! this GUY is STEALING THIS BIKE!!!"

Maybe then the Chicago yuppies
walking by would be forced to stop
pretending not to notice the crime
going on right in front of their eyes.

I'll admit, I was a bit scared.

What kind of a guy steals a bike in broad daylight
with 20+ witnesses?

Probably the same guy who cuts your
lips off with 80 gauge wire snips.

----

I live underneath a very different train station.
I park my bike underneath the station every day.

The day after I witnessed the bike theft,
I went to check on my own bicycle.

It was there, safe and sound.

But someone had spit on my bike seat.

It only took me a moment to realize,
God... in his wisdom,
felt it necessary to punish
me for not doing more.

He couldn't have my bike stolen,
because I did make an effort, I tried...
so he hocked a loogie on my bike seat.

And I learned my lesson.

-p