I live in a recession. An economic downturn that is the worst since the great depression. I live my life unemployed and searching for jobs that are well under my qualifications. The only money to my name is in my pocket. I count my change and keep my pennies. I have begun to notice many changes in the world since the start of this economic crisis. Changes that are not reflected in numbers, indicators, and GDP figures, but rather, changes in the mentality and attitude of people; Changes in social behavior. It's what I like to call the "street level" aspect of the recession. The following is part one of a three part series depicting some of these changes, entitling "Tales from a Recession":
I frantically waved at the passing taxis as I stood on a street corner in North Dublin I did not exactly recognize.
-I need to get to the city centre, how much is this going to fucking cost? I thought to myself.
Finally I spotted one approaching me and I jumped into the street. I climbed into the back seat quickly.
-Hey man, city centre; mind if we stop at a cash machine first?
It was more of a statement than a question. The car was already pulling away and if the driver expected me to pay we were going to need to stop. I had absolutely no cash.
-Not a bother there. Yer from America, wherebouts? He replied in a thick irish brogue
-Boston, I'm over here since September. Ever been over man? I replied.
-No, no not meself. Plenty Irish in Boston though, isn't there?
-Yeah man, plenty, my father is Irish, that's why I came here. Try and live in the old country ya know?
At that he let out a short chuckle before continuing:
-Fair play to ya. Alright there is a cash machine on the side of the road there, I'll pull up right in front fer ya.
I climbed out the car door and scurried across a few lanes of traffic. I approached the cash machine and casually flipped open my wallet to remove my debit card. I inserted my card and roboticly punched in the sequence of buttons necessary to remove €30. As I watched the machine dispense my money I suddenly felt a blow to my back and before I could react I was flush against the wall. My body pinned I helplessly watched a hand snatch my money before I could reach for it myself.
I had just been mugged. My attacker broke from me and began to flee but not before I could briefly step in his way. He was wearing some sort of black and white windbreaker jacket with a pattern that clearly has not been in production since the early 80s. Accompanying the jacket were black sweat pants, Air Jordan's about two sizes two big, cross-eyes, and a mis-shapen head. A tinker. For those of you not familiar with the definition of a "tinker" (alternately called a "nacker" or a "pikey") it is a common species of in-bred Irish or British hooligan-animal common in poor city neighborhoods and roving caravan communities. I lunged toward him but he quickly changed directions. I have to give it to the guy he really juked me good. Upon later contemplation I am convinced he must have played rugby or something as a kid.
Now I need to explain something. As I watched this cross-eyed, crooked-teethed, most-likely uneducated common thief juke me out and take off with my money, something snapped in my brain. All of the common sense I have accumulated over the years left me and was replaced with passionate rage. I started chasing him.
I chased him down the street. I chased him on to a sidewalk. I screamed obscenities at him and told him:
-When I catch you, I'm going to murder you. Motherfucker.
I was starting to gain ground on him. Then without warning the tinker darted into a busy intersection. I caught a car out of the corner of my eye and quickly caught myself from following him. What happened next I still have a hard time believing myself.
Screeching tires. swerving cars. My assailant knocked upwards on to the hood of an automobile before rolling back towards the pavement. I saw my opportunity. I ran towards him, screaming for help, yelling more obscenities than before and in my state of complete rage I was convinced I was going to jump on top of him and start punching him until I either got my money back or broke my hand. But before I could get there, he got up and continued running. He definitely must of played rugby as a kid.
After about 20 seconds more of chase my common sense started to slowly creep back into my brain. Who the hell was this guy? What if he had a knife? or what if he's on some serious drugs? It was only €30. It was not going to break the bank and I had already been chasing this dude a good while without any signs of him giving up. If the car could not stop him; how could I? I began to slow up and shouted a few last obscenities in his direction.
Walking back towards the intersection I saw stares of complete confusion and wonder directed towards me. The car that had hit him was still idle in the same position; the driver sitting on the hood wondering what to do. I walked straight past everyone's inquisitive stares to the cab that was still parked on the corner I had left it. The driver threw the door open for me.
-I saw the whole ting. Are you alright?
I climbed in the car dejected.
-Yeah I'm fine; just shocked.
At that the cab driver reset the meter and started driving again.
-Dis one's on me, he said.
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