A window into a (possible) future of evil:

 

I work in a school district, so I get to often interact with all kinds of school-age kids… though I am more maintenance than teacher.  (I work as a “systems analyst” which is short for computer-fixer-guy).  Most of the interactions I have with the kids are pleasant or utilitarian.  Like an adult swimming in the kids’ pool, I’m mostly ignored…  and that is as it should be. 

Yet, there have been a few times over the years, where little warning bells went off in my head, as a possible dangerous situation.  As I get older, I’ve learned to listen very carefully to this warning…given that today everyone seems to possess a Glock or at least an AR15 assault rifle.

 

The other night, those warning bells went off loud and clear as I looked into the pleading eyes of a kid no more than 11 years old. 

I had been feeling not so well over the past few days, and I’ve found that working out really does help both my mind and body relax.  Now, my workouts are not big crunches or 2-hour sweat-fests… generally, some weights (a couple of reps), a five-minute pull on the rower, and a three-mile (or less) fast walk (on a slight incline) on the treadmill. 

As I get closer to a 5K I hope to do in April, I will be running on the treadmill too. 

I currently belong to the Baraboo Fitness club.  I’m thinking about moving to a more upscale club (a bit more $) soon, even before this incident.  But, BFC is cheap, and well-kept, even if the machines are old and sometimes out of order.  The place has a glass front, and next door is the neighborhood laundromat.  

The owners are friendly and helpful.  The front has the cardio machines, and in the back are the weights and lifting machines. 

Most of the attendees are, well…if not friendly, at least not threatening.  And most of the muscle-lunks are in the back, and rarely do any cardio work. 

I have my favorite “iron horse” (I call it) treadmill that I mostly use.  It faces out of the window, so I can watch the scenery outside.  I always said that I must be part-dog because I love staring out a window…and enjoy having the window open when I drive…  (arf!)

This particular evening (Saturday) was not late… around 6:30pm and I was the only soul at the center.  I was about halfway through my work out on the old Iron Horse, when I heard a knock at the door.  I turned my head to the left, and saw a small boy, no more than eleven years old, if even that, with an oversize coat wave at me.  I waved back, and continued walking on. 

The knocking persisted, and I looked again and the boy had a troubled look on his face and motioned for me to come to the door.   Thinking there may have been an accident, or perhaps something was wrong, I shut down the machine and headed to the door.

The door is security locked with a card key for entrance after general business hours, so I stood inside the door and shrugged my shoulders at the kid.  He knocked again and asked me to open the door.  

I did open it a crack, and asked, “Yes? Can I help you with something?”

A tiny, clear voice said, “Yeah.  Can I come in?” 

“I’m afraid they do not allow any one in here after hours, unless you have a card.  Do you have a key card?”

“No, but I just want to come in.” 

“I’m sorry, I can’t.  They are pretty big about that here… the rules, you know?  Sorry. Is something wrong?” 

He says, “Well my mom runs this place and she said it’s okay for me to come in.” 

Well, I knew at this point, that was a lie.  I had been a regular here for years and had never seen this kid before. 

And then I noticed something else.  He stuck his foot between the door and the jamb.  

Maybe it’s my suspicious nature, maybe it’s just a reflex, but that’s an old hoodlum trick I once learned from…. Well, let’s just call him an acquaintance… that showed me how to do door-to-door sales.  A way to keep the “mark” talking while trying to convince him to let you inside, where “the real magic happens.” 

I told him, “Well, I’m sure if you bring your mom, she would let you in then.  I’m sorry I can’t.” 

He pointed to a jar sitting on the counter, and said, “Well… can I have a piece of candy then?” 

I looked over at the jar and noticed he now had his body part way in the door as well, as I was holding the door against him. 

I told him, “Well.  No, I’m sorry.  That’s not my candy.  I can’t give it to you.  It’s not my candy to give you.  Sorry.”

Then, he pleaded with me and said, “Come on, man!  Can’t I just have some of that candy?” 

Something bizarre happened at this point.  I looked down into those wide, open, pleading cow-pie eyes… and I thought I could see into this boys’ future.  I saw him, older, maybe 16… and drawing a gun on someone that dared tell him “No, you cannot come in” or “No, you cannot have something that is not yours.” 

It was the most strangest of moments. 

I told him.  “No, I’m sorry.  I cannot let you in or have any candy.” 

His look completely changed then.  He spit out the words in a screaming voice:  “FUCK YOU!”  and then just disappeared. 

The monster within. 

Emboldened, but still foolish… I opened the door after him and yelled:  “Nice!  Thank you very much.  I hope your vocabulary improves with age….”  

I got back to the treadmill to start the machine, and realized my hands were trembling. 

Man… an eleven year old kid made me scared. 

You know, back in the day…I knew a few bad dudes.  I mean, bad bad guys….  Fellas that they write books about….And I’ve witnessed some pretty nasty, weird and wicked stuff.  Let’s just say, I really do know where the bodies are buried.  But, that was a long time ago… In a different life. Now, I’m just a fat, old guy on a treadmill.  And a little kid made me tremble.

I’ve often heard it said that the world has changed. 

Maybe I’ve gotten old and jaded, but I do not think it’s changed for the better.