I’m having one of those moments that my parents used to tell me about all of the time. One of those reflective moments that used to make me want to lose my mind if I even remotely considered the possibility that it would potentially dawn on me at some point, as they were guaranteeing me. I was particularly bothered by these subtle reminders of eventual adulthood because I had to pause Tony Hawk Pro Skater or stop listening to Soundgarden when they presented themselves, and usually it was out of my control or as a result of something that I may have done. These moments of sudden realization as youngish thritysomething adults are a combination of annoying and startlingly magnetic. It’s as if everything that made you resist the call of logic and wisdom, simply because it was coming from the authority that loved you and seemed to oppress you all at once, is suddenly revealed for what it really is…a gem of smarts and foresight that you were lucky to have, which makes you have a growing feeling that somewhere, somehow, your parents may be getting a bulletin indicating that it finally happened. It makes you feel fortunate. It makes you feel as if the autopilot of guidance that you were getting, and which annoyed you to no end, especially between the ages of 14-18, or in my case, 14-27, was in fact a brilliant failsafe. An investment of sorts…that has it ups and downs. These moments that I am referring to are when your mother or father may have told you that at some point in your life, probably after you have children…you’ll get a complete understanding of perhaps everything they ever went through. The troubles. The challenges. The worries. All of the bullshit that we put them through. It’s incredible when you finally reach that point, through the course of an incident or phase in your life.

Well. Last night it happened to me.

I was humming away in my four door sedan. I drove by a 7-11, and saw 3 teenagers pushing another teen against a dumpster, attempting to start a fight. I found myself drawing my head back as I passed the scene, intent on simply driving by, and telling myself that the kid would be fine. This lasted about a second, and I suddenly found myself doing a U-turn. I also suddenly found myself getting worried about the kid who I was convinced was going to get badly worked over, and maybe even hospitalized. I channeled Morgan Freeman in Lean On Me. I contacted my inner city school teacher, and I thought of inspirational things to say to these clearly misguided youths. As I was stopping the car, I felt no fear. I was humming "Gangsta’s Paradise", and picturing Sidney Poitier’s face in "To Sir, With Love". These kids were going to hear from me, and they were going to benefit from it. They needed to. They were our future. Besides, I thought….I needed to save the one teen’s life. I needed to protect him, and all others like him. I began to think about costume designs for my vigilante persona…a wicked combination of guidance counsellor and crime fighter/lifesaver.

As I stepped out of the car, I immediately yelled at everyone to "FREEZE!". All of them did. The teen getting flung about against the dumpster seemed baffled that I was intervening. "What in God’s Name Are You Doing?", I bellowed. No one said anything. I had a quick pang of knowing that that was something I probably would not have said normally under regular circumstances. It had a slight tinge of something my father would use, or maybe even a police detective. An NYPD police detective. Like Andy Sipowicz.

I stood there. Motionless. Clenching my fists, and sizing up all four of them. These young teens were clearly on the wrong path. We all just stood there, for about a minute. Nothing said. They were in shock. I had adrenaline pounding through my veins. I briefly peered into the open door of my car, in case I needed a defensive weapon if they were to rush me. I saw only an envelope. I quickly snapped my head back. The prolonged silence got longer, and longer. No one really knew what to do. I finally broke the tension.

"Why don’t you guys go home and leave him alone?"

Suddenly, a shift in the situation occurred. Another teen emerged from across the street holding a video camera. He weaved in between the parked cars, and rushed to the scene. I was subconsciously disgusted with what I came to the conclusion was a 3 on 1 beating that was going to be posted onto Youtube. I’d heard of these things before. Viral Violence Videos! The 3 V’s! Random beatings and assaults. Schoolyard tussles and smackdowns captured on video, gonzo style, for all to enjoy. I was suddenly more determined than ever to impart some 31 year old wisdom on these kids. This was not the way to go. This was not what they wanted to make out of their lives. That burning sensation of everything my parents probably felt and thought about the things I thought were funny, or ok to do…and which were not ok at all, poured into me like Kool-Aid in a glass jug on a hot summer afternoon. I suddenly found the movie Jackass totally stupid and immature.

Well. It all got cleared up. The kid with the video camera was in fact not a kid at all, and was a member of a local independent film group. The whole thing was actually a staged scene for a commercial video on bullying they were shooting, and the 7-11 clerk even emerged indicating that he was aware that they were shooting it. The kids were actually 2 professional and 2 part time actors. They were all getting paid, and the whole thing was actually completely above board. They were actually surprisingly nice people. I even recognized one of them from the Improv Olympics back in high school.

I sheepishly purchased a Big Gulp after the whole thing. The moment I am referring to is something I will never forget my father telling me once. Kids make you more serious about stuff. They also, evidently, make you an overreacting Samaritan. I’m certain, at some point, I will probably be saying the same thing to one or both of my children.

Yay.