Streets of New York

Early on a spring Sunday morning, I was walking down the streets of New York City en route to the Empire State Building with my oldest girls, and it was unusually quiet, even peaceful. In our Western habit, we smiled and often said good morning to the few folks we met. At one point a tall, muscular man was leisurely coming down the street carrying a couple packages, and before he even reached us, he flashed a million dollar smile and warm hello that we returned. A moment later, a little man dressed in a black suit rushed up behind the man and rudely crashed into him from behind. I abruptly stopped hoping to avert another human collision when I recognized the sound of breaking glass. My eyes followed the sound, and the wine gushed forth. The big man gazed at it frozen in utter astonishment. Stunned he looked at us, and then down the street where the little man had picked up his pace significantly.

Realizing this little man was not even going to apologize, frustration filled his face and voice, as his voice echoed through the empty street,"Hey...hey, you...Hey!"

At this point, the little man was almost running down the street before slinking into the nearest alley. Gone.

In resignation, the massive body slumped to the ground and began gathering the shattered pieces, as he carefully guarded his other package.