I carried a passive nature into adulthood. I fought not at all through untill May 1, 2005 when two cowardly punks kicked me in the face while I was on my hands and knees outside of the Victoria Park C-Train station on the Stampede grounds.

It was a 7:20 or so, sunday morning and my friend Paul and I were rideing the LRT from the University (where we both work night shifts at opposite ends of the campus) into downtown. At the first downtown stop, 8th street station, two young Sudanese boys got on and sat behind us. I thought nothing of it. Paul and I were faceing forward and Paul was makeing an observation about some of the people around. Suddenly Paul was ready to fight and exclaiming to these lads that he wasn't going to take what ever shit they did to him. They must have mistook Paul's comments as durogitory. I stayed put and watched, ready to jump in if things came too blows and I stayed put when the didn't. Things simmered down and Paul sat back down faceing them. I probably should have too.

Paul got off at 1st station and apologiesed, patting both of them on the shoulder. I stayed on with them behind me.

At one point one of them asked me which way the train was going. South, I told him. He said to his companion that they were going south.

And so the train rolled away from city hall and into the south bound tunnel. I got off at Victoria Park Station and the boys came in tow. I should have know something was wrong when I was ready to leave the station and they were lingering across the room beside the ticket booths.

I lingered at the doors, tieing my shoes extra tight, getting my gloves out. But eventually I brused off my guts feelings and the obvious at silly and went out the doors.