It’s strange how sometimes you come face to face with a guy and have an instant flash that, lives being different, you could have become mates. As it is, you’ve got ninety seconds.
Tuesday, on the way to work, I stopped in at the local Post Office. By the time I came out, the heavens had opened West Yorkshire style. It crossed my mind that if Noah had still been around he’d be gathering the animals together again for another sailing.
As if by magic a bus appeared, so I hopped on. I made the mistake of saying ‘good morning’ to the driver. He didn’t seem to mind, but clearly the other passengers did. As I moved down the bus to the back seat where, on our buses, y’can sit with your legs open, I felt a communal glowering of vague distaste of the kind that makes you check your zip (though right now I’m into the metal buttons).
As we approached the main stopping point in ‘fax, a young guy suddenly bounded down the stairs, obviously pretty anxious to get off first.
His
hair was a shaggy mass of freedom. I saw him check his reflection in the bus window, then shake his head so that the amazing mop became even more amazing. I found it quite startling.
Remember, this wasn’t happening in New York City, L.A., or at Piccadilly Circus. It was Halifax.
Halifax, the ‘armpit of West Yorkshire’? Hardly. We still have some excellent architecture and an enormous covering of trees.
But, ‘convention rules’. The Topman shop has had an uphill task making their slimline jeans popular with the local lads, so this young guy, clearly having no problem ‘Standing alone’ (as it says in the Guide), had a big pair of Balls.
I stepped up from the back seat sharpish to take a closer look but three or four crinklies moved ahead of me so The Hair got off the bus and was soon about ten paces ahead of me. Fortunately we were moving in the same direction.
What had entered my mind was a sudden need to acknowledge his Courage.
As I got closer to him he suddenly turned left. I realised that if I didn’t move fast, I’d be on to a loser.
‘Excuse me’, I called out. This you do with some caution in ‘fax as we don’t draw attention to ourselves – my ‘good morning’ to the bus driver f’rinstance – unless we’re returning something which has just been dropped.
He turned.
So do it, I challenged myself.
‘Your hair’s grrreat!’
He grinned. ‘Thank you very much’. (This surprised me as the best I’d hoped for was a ‘cheers mate’.)
Then we both turned and went our separate ways.
I once dyed my hair blue for a gig in Manchester, and walking through the city centre some guy yelled at me “cool hair”. Is a nice moment to have something that looks both good and surprising, it’s hard to make it work…
I find this fascinating. I think it points to something deeper than simply acknowledging someone’s courage to truly be unique and ‘themselves’. For me, this is about recognising another fellow traveller and being brave enough to make a connection – however brief – with that person. We live in a world and a time when we have mistaken connection – iphones, ipads, facebook, twitter etc – with genuine communication and conversation. Being bold enough – having the balls, frankly – to step across that line, look someone else in the eye and say ‘I’m like you. I see you. You’ve got balls too’ is fundamentally a part of what men do. It takes guts to make that call and know that you could receive aggression, fear, attack or dismissal for doing so. But, for me, it’s fundamental to the way we need to behave.