Backing out of a parking space, or, the Calculus of Sacrifice

 

By: Blizzard Actual *

 

I don’t have any kids. I’m not married. Not even close. In fact, one time I was nearly responsible for crashing a helicopter when I told a very dirty joke about the difference between conception and digestion (use your imagination) to a helicopter pilot causing him to momentarily lose control of the aircraft.

 

But I like kids, and I like to see families doing family things in public. I think I want a family one day. Before I was a law enforcement agent, I was a lifeguard throughout high school and college. I saved several children and even a few parents who couldn’t swim. Maybe that’s why I always keep a wary eye out on little kids in the water while I’m swimming laps.

 

One of the few perks about shift work is that glorious 1:30pm trip to the grocery store, mall, etc. You know what I’m talking about. It’s the middle of the day. Save for old people and moms with children too young for school, the stores are empty. Society temporarily feels like it has throttled back a few ticks on the “Full Retard” dial. I get in, I get out, I move on.

 

But a few months ago that wasn’t the case. Why the hell was the local grocery store that packed on a Wednesday afternoon? It doesn’t matter. I’ll thread that shopping cart through the produce section like an Apache Pilot flying nap-of-the-earth. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. I make it out alive and stow my groceries in my truck.

 

So my dad has this weird habit of turning other people’s car headlights off. If you get out of your car and leave your headlights on, and my father pulls in behind you, he will open your car door (provided you left your doors unlocked) and turn your headlights off for you. As a kid, I’ve witnessed him cut across entire parking lots to perform this task, and never once render judgment on the vehicle’s owner. One time when I was about 8 and people still left their car doors unlocked, I asked him why he did such a thing for a stranger. He said, “Strange things happen in parking lots”. I’m not sure if that was a statement from experience, but it left an impression on me to this day.

 

So I’m in my truck, engine running preparing to back out. I creep back about a foot and then stop when a young mother with kids and full grocery cart comes into my rearview mirror and passes behind me. Four kids, two walking, two in the cart. One was crying, another was opening a box of something; one was treating her $300 smartphone like a toy airplane, and one little angel holding her hand. If I moved like an Apache in the grocery store she moved like a KC-17.

 

She had her hands full no doubt. But my grandmother was one of twelve kids, and my grandfather was one of thirteen so this had chick had a few to go until she gets any sympathy from me. God she looked young to have four kids, and she was tiny. Not at all like the agrarian farm wives from where I’m from.   I stay half in, half out of my space, not quite blocking traffic, but waiting for this Globemaster to touch down.

 

Then I see it out of the corner of my eye. How could you not? Fast mover, small Asian sedan, silver in color, Caucasian male driver, on his phone. Why is it during times of sports, violence, or other rapid deployment of kinetic energy, time slows down? I don’t know either, but this was one of these times.

 

He wasn’t moving Indy 500 fast, but too fast for a parking lot. Definitely too fast for a woman juggling four kids, debating what she was going to make for dinner, and trying to remember if she paid the electric bill on time. I was between her and the sedan. There was about 30-45 feet between me and the sedan. Maybe if you measure that in seconds instead of feet, you’ll get a more accurate picture. This guy had no clue, this woman had no chance. Ever have an out of body experience where you witness everything but can do nothing? What about an out of body experience where you witness everything but can do something?

 

20 feet. It’s either go time, or its caution tape and a stray lime-green size 2 Crocs shoe in the afternoon sun. I feather clutch/gas/brake and pop out of the parking space and tap the horn. My truck fills the entire lane of travel between the two rows of cars. I instinctively flex, bracing for what I am about to receive. I know this isn’t going to kill me, but this is going to hurt. A lot.

 

Mom looks up and scowls at my horn, unable to see the sedan. Silver sedan man looks up, sees my truck and applies the brakes, unable to see what’s on the other side of my truck. He stops a good three feet short of my truck. But it a feels a lot closer. The universe comes to rest for about two solid minutes until mom gets all the kids and groceries loaded into her SUV. Once secured, I unblock traffic and pull away. Silver sedan man is back on his phone, and mom backs out after him.

 

I thought about that moment for a long time. In fact it has taken me nearly a year to put it into words. Compared to other things I’ve seen and done (you likely as well), this doesn’t even register on the post-traumatic scale.

 

I have no scientific evidence to prove my next statements. This is an opinion piece, not a carefully written, fact checked, peer reviewed article on climate change. But I am a firm believer in something I call the Calculus of Sacrifice. The true story from my life that you just read above is the best way I can articulate to you what exactly the Calculus of Sacrifice is.

 

In short, there are literally terabytes of Interwebs that tell of family struggles in defending each other against home intruders, grizzly bears, etc. Maybe you have been in one of those experiences. Maybe you haven’t. But I truly don’t believe that when the chips are down and your family needs you, you will be there to save them. Instead whether you are comfortable with it or not, the health and sanctity of your family may come down to the quick thinking and good deeds of a total stranger who may or may not be in uniform. Maybe that stranger will have to give up part (or all) of their tomorrow for your family’s today. Makes you feel a little more fragile doesn’t it? Me too.

 

Try to refute this Calculus and see how far you get. You might be good with a gun, or great at slapping on a tourniquet, but do you honestly possess 100% of the requisite skills to save your loved ones from the world? Maybe if you are Wayne “The Rock” Johnson you do, but I don’t. Now throw in a 40+ hour work week, overseas deployments, and shift work. You start to see my picture. The reality is that in the very near future, maybe right now while you are reading this post while on duty, someone somewhere is going to get your family out of a jam. Your family might not ever know, or if they do they may not have even gotten the name of the person so you could thank them. Maybe at the dinner table that night your wife will tell you about the jerk that blew the horn at her while she was trying to load the kids and the groceries.

 

You may never get the chance to fast rope into Abottabad, or to pull someone out of a burning building. But I guarantee you will get the chance sometime, somewhere to do what’s right for someone else’s family. No one else will be able to or will even be looking. I hope you do.

 

-Blizzard Actual

 

 

Blizzard Actual is a friend of Overwatch Designs and no stranger to writing. Blizzard Actual has written and will likely continue to write blog posts and reviews for our friend, Will, at blacksheepwarrior.com. Blizzard Actual has a wealth of knowledge, education, and real world experience. We are happy to have him add to our blog. We hope you enjoy his writing and outlook on the experiences of this crazy world.

You can follow Blizzard Actual on Instagram or contact him by writing love notes to blizzard_actual@yahoo.com