The Unlikely Encounter That Made Me Confront My Male Fragility
How stopping my car for a stranger changed my perspective on masculinity and service
I drive a couple of blocks and the streets get darker. As I near my Powderhorn home, domestic boulevards overtake the lights of the small commercial center in my rearview. It’s just past 11:30 p.m.
Outside of downtown, it’s hard to escape the modesty of urban life in Minneapolis. This is no concrete jungle, more like an overgrown prairie with lakes and sidewalks. But all that is frozen over now — winter holds its grudges.
I am trailing two cars, homeward bound, with no real sense of urgency. Before long, about a half-block in front of me, two objects appear in the street. These are not cars, but something smaller. I’m not sure what I’m looking at. It’s snowing again, and the flurry blurs focus like a pixelated television. Foot hovering over the brakes, I keep driving, prepared for any sudden stops.
As I get closer, I discern two figures. They walk urgently, weaving back and forth through the passing vehicles. I inch closer to the pedestrians, careful not to make the wrong move, especially on these Minneapolis streets where cars glide for yards on carpets of black ice.
