Letting Go and Holding On

Our trip back home from the Origami Convention in New York last weekend, took us through Penn Station. We had a forty-five minute wait for a train back to our car in New Haven. My kids and husband had brought books to read. I entertained myself with some people watching.
One woman who caught my attention was about six or seven rows away from us in the waiting area. She was standing and talking rather loudly about a class or conference she had attended. Having just left a conference my curiosity was aroused....had she just been to the same conference we were at?
No sooner did I look her way, and she was gesturing and speaking even more loudly to a man who was directly in line with our seats, about the same six or seven rows away.

"That's my seat! I'm sitting there!"

She went over to where the man and his wife were putting down bags and beginning to sit down and wait for their train. He stood up from the seat he had just sat in, and she pointed to her open computer sitting atop her bags and maneuvered her way back into the seat next to the computer.

I could not hear what was being said, but clearly she felt she had laid claim to the seat by her earlier occupation, and she was going to prove that by replanting herself there now. I thought she was being a bit possessive of the seat for a public space. Had I been the man, I think I would have moved on and found another seat.

But he didn't.

The next thing I knew he was flinging a bandanna in her face. And she was shrieking "He hit me!"

Soon the room was against this man. He crossed a line. But, he did not seem to be backing down. He made another fling of the bandanna in her direction. Soon the man sitting next to the action was on his feet. "Show some respect! She's an old woman." Two roosters, chests puffed, staring each other down, noses about an inch away.

An Amtrak employee was there in an instant telling the two men to back off from one another, and calling over the police. The woman was continuing to cry out, "He hit me!" The employee got things calmed down quickly. He advised the woman to let the incident go. "It is not worth it", I could hear him say.

The man with the bandanna was brought over to another spot in the waiting area, behind us. The police went over and spoke with him. Then it was up to talk to the woman. Finally back to the man, and soon, he and his wife were paraded out of the area. Apparently the woman with the seat and the computer could not let the incident go. She wanted him to pay for his actions.

What if....

What if the man had just gone and found another seat when the woman came back?

What if she had recognized she had walked away from her seat in a public space? What if she had closed up her computer, and moved closer to her conversational companions?

What if the man recognized he had crossed a line? What if he apologized for his behavior?

What if she had just let the moment pass? Let the man apologize, and recognize that the stresses of travel can fray nerves.

In an instant we can react emotional, without engaging our brains. Even when enough time is given for us to think, there is a tendency, it seems, for people to hold their ground. Holding on to a position can feel less wrong in the emotional stew than admitting a momentary lapse in judgement. From where I was sitting, both of these people seemed to have behaved badly, to varying degrees.

Was the alternative at any point so much worse? Was there something so precious about that seat? What will be gained by pressing charges? Will it make for a better story of an aggrieved victim? What stress was this man under to reach a point to behave so badly in a such a public space? And what price will, or has, his wife payed for this moment?

People watching doesn't usually get so dramatic. It is usually far more subtle, and nuanced. This event made me think about the Iraq war and how once a choice was made, people did not, and in many cases, still will not, admit that perhaps it was the wrong war at the wrong time.

Condoleeza Rice was recently quoted as saying she was proud of the actions that United States has taken in Iraq. She spoke about how people might suffer, and we may never be able to repair some of the damage we caused, but in the long run of history it will be viewed as being the right thing. It must be scary to be in such a position. To see that you made choices that have played out badly, and so publicly. How much courage would it take to be able to stand up and say, "We were wrong. We never should have done this. We did not anticipate that it would turn out this way."

It seems as if it is easier sometimes once an act of confrontation or aggression has occurred to stick with it. Perhaps it is a way of justifying what has gone before. It takes more strength, it seems, to be able to not fight. Walking away. Letting go. The more we hold firmly onto our position, the deeper we get invested, and the larger the price we pay.

It is the choices we make every day. Are we an aggrieved victim, or someone with enough strength and grace to let go and move aside when necessary? To give up the seat. Can we let go, or do we hold on firmly to our position, unable to admit a moment of bad judgement or bad behavior? We all have our moments, in public or private. Do they stay as a moment, or do we hold on so tight that they stretch and begin to occupy more of our lives?