And Over the Weekend

It was pretty uneventful around here last night--at least in terms of fireworks. I could just barely hear the display over at the river park which I guess as the crow flies is not too far from us. But there was nothing else, and I was able to fall asleep with my usual alacrity. 

Sunday was a different story. We were taking in a walk in the morning and when we got down close to the Power and Light District, this kind of youngish, unkempt looking guy materialized behind us and started yelling at me. We walked on. He then trotted up the sidewalk toward us to catch up, looked right at me, and started yelling about how veterans are treated, I think. Or something.  I couldn't tell exactly, as he was pretty pissed off and not quite rational--not sure what drugs or medication he was on.  I "stood my ground" and said nothing while I tried to figure out how dangerous he was, or how crazy. I finally said, “you're interrupting our walk."  

He stared at me for a couple more seconds and then walked on and, in the manner of an over-aggressive tom-cat you just shooed off your yard, every few steps he would turn and yell at me some more before continuing his retreat. We stood there about a minute more to let him get on down the street.

Later that same day we were eating lunch at Pickleman's at 12th and Walnut, sitting inside, close to the big window front. Someone driving very slowly along 12th Street caught my eye. 12th Street is one-way, going east, and the car was correctly headed east, but it slowed even more and right in front of Pickleman's the driver (a woman) executed a slow and laborious three-point turn and then headed off west, the wrong way. She disappeared down the street never to be seen again. Not by us, anyway. 

How do you decide in those critical moments what to do? I should have run out to the street and told the driver she was crazy, and the angry veteran that he was going the wrong way.