There’s a blind man burning a cigarette into his face. What do you want to do for lunch?

I saw that. The blind guy burning his face, that is. Sure, it was shocking – I mean, how do you prepare for a random display of self-mutilation? Ideally you get at least a day’s warning. But what was even more eye opening was the casual way my friend and I dealt with the whole thing. ‘Wow, he’s burning that cigarette right into his cheek. That’s horrifying. He’s not even flinching. I think he’s enjoying it. I’m sad, shocked, disgusted, and frightened. Anywho… are we still heading to Mr. Sub for lunch?”

My tolerance for mind-boggling slaps to my brain has become remarkably strong over the years. In the past, a homeless guy with a completely exposed ass walking in front of me would have been quite an ordeal.  Now it’s as everyday as crossing the street.

Sometimes you don’t even have to witness something strange for it to affect your day.  For instance, seconds before going for a cigarette a few months ago, I found out that a flasher had been exposing himself to women while they smoked.  Of course, when I got outside, I was the only guy in a sea of women. Not knowing quite what to do, I jokingly said, “I’m not the flasher by the way”. They laughed, BUT I wonder if I hadn’t said anything, would they have spent the rest of their break wondering if I’d end up trading the smoke in my hand for the pecker in my pants? Again. How the hell could I have prepared for this? God I hate cocks.

Anyways, I think these swift kicks to our comfort zones are needed. We need quick reminders about how dark, twisted and crazy the world outside you actually is. And if that comes in the form of a vagrant’s arse, so be it.

These run-ins expose survival instincts you didn’t even know you had. Did I know how to react to the transsexual hairdresser with hands the size of John Goodman that cut my hair last month? Of course not.  But after 20 minutes of having my skull palmed by what looked like Jackie Chan in drag, I discovered a safe place in my head that I know I can call upon again when needed.

The moral of this story? When life throws you a blind man burning his face with a cigarette while exposing his ass to a transsexual hairdresser who saw a man flash his pecker, make lemonade.