(One-Sided)Rumble on Wabash

Stop me if I’ve told you this one before.

One gray and drab Sunday afternoon, my mother, my baby sister and I decide to go out for a nice family-style lunch at (the now defunct) Bennigan’s, our favorite restaurant of the moment.  We could have easily gone to the Bennigan’s located at Chicago Ridge Mall, which was literally a ten minute drive from home.  But we wanted to take an expedition, which led us to our second favorite Bennigan’s: downtown on the corner of Michigan and Adams.  The meal itself was pretty simple: it was delicious and I enjoyed the company of my family.

It was the trip home that would prove ZOMG! eventful.

We’re walking down Adams towards Wabash.  The street is otherwise empty except for a group of tourists/suburbanites who have reached the corner before us.  Everything around us was fairly silent; even the El tracks above Wabash were as quiet as a classroom on the day of the SATs.  While we’re waiting for the light to change for us to cross Wabash, an older man in a bright yellow coat starts to cross before the light officially changes, as there’s really no traffic to contend with.  By the time he reaches the middle of the street, the north/south light on Wabash turns red and this piece of shit car comes to a stop, much like he’s supposed to.  What happens next, however, defies explanation.

I don’t see it.  In fact, I don’t think anyone sees what Mr. Shit Car claims happened to spark the chain of events that would unfold.  But, I can guarantee that we all saw what happened next.  Before any of the rest of us on the corner could take a step out into the street, Mr. Shit Car gets out of his car, yells something inaudible to Mr. Yellow Coat, and proceeds to shove him HARD to the ground.  And then nothing.  Mr. Yellow Coat doesn’t move.  Mr. Shit Car proceeds to yell some more, something to the effect of “GET UP!  GET THE FUCK UP!”  But Mr. Yellow Coat wasn’t getting up.  And, though I can’t be entirely sure, it’s most likely because Mr. Yellow Coat is knocked out cold. 

Everyone standing on the corner is pretty much standing there in a “what the fuck did we just see?” silence.  However, aside from my mother, my sister and myself, no one was interested in finding out, as the crowd just crossed to the other side of Adams and then crossed Wabash and continued on their way.  Why do we stick around?  Well, we’re still trying to figure out WTF?  Also, I grew up around drama.  This was small potatoes to what I was used to.  Lastly, I wanted to make sure I didn’t just see a dude get fatally assaulted.

Not getting immediate results, Mr. Shit Car starts to turn Mr. Yellow Coat over- at least, he tries to.  When he can’t budge him, he yells out, “someone help me turn him over!”  To which my mother replies, “no one helped you push him down!”  So he finally successfully turns him over on his own and there is a considerable amount of blood on the front of his bright yellow coat.  This is when bravado gives way to “oh shit, what the fuck did I do?” mode.  Noticing this, his buddy gets out of the car and tells him that it’s time to go.  However, at the same time, a CTA employee, having witnessed the entire incident from the El platform above Wabash, yells down to Mr. Shit Car that she saw the whole thing and has already called the cops.  Freaking out, Mr. Shit Car yells out, “but he touched my car!  He hit my car!”  As I mentioned earlier, absolutely NO ONE saw this alleged assault on his automobile.  And, given the eerie silence of the day, we certainly might have heard him hit the car hard enough to warrant such a senseless attack.  This was clearly an instance of a dude in a shitty car with a shitty attitude whose day was about to get even shittier once the cops showed up.

As much as I wanted to see the rest unfold, my mother decided that my little sister had seen enough and that it was time to go home.  So, much like the group several minutes earlier, we crossed Adams, finally crossed Wabash, and walked towards State St. to take the Red Line home.

I never heard anything more about it.  It didn’t make the news and we were down in the subway before the cops arrived.  We could see Mr. Yellow Coat’s chest swell and fall, so we knew he was still breathing.  To this day, I hope Mr. Yellow Coat made a full recovery & that Mr. Shit Car got the justice he deserved.  There was no reason for such a violent display and I always use this incident as a reminder that human nature can be a cruel bitch sometimes and that “expect the unexpected” can be terrifyingly more than just a cliché.