I was on my way downtown to buy stuff when I spotted some really cool old bikes chained up just beyond the Somerville Theatre side of the Davis T stop. I admire the design of old and quirky bikes, but I don't think I've had much success photographing them, so I decided to give it another shot with the subjects available. There was a cool, aerodynamic Taiwanese bike with well-aged fenders, a French road bike with an interesting brake cable alignment that symmetrically divided the frame, and a few other good ones. I had to wedge myself between the bikes and the brick wall in front of them to get some shots of the the manufacturers' insignia. I probably looked weird.
When I finished, I noticed a wiry, Irish-townie looking guy straddling a bike in the middle of the brick walkway. He was staring me down. He had bushy blond hair, an unyouthful face, and wore a white polo shirt and jeans. In a slow, low mumble, he asked
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: Whattaya lookin faw?
RB: Just looking at these cool old bikes.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: Nah, whattayalookinfaw?
RB: The bikes.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: Nah, I wanna know, whea do you come from? What do you see?
RB: (Getting impatient) Well, I'm from New York.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: (Eyes bulging with sudden, unmistakable rage) Yah from Noo Yok, what the fuckaya doin heeya? (A strong aura of whiskey accompanies his harshening words.)
RB: Well, I live here, and I'm off today. I'm looking for some photos.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: I look lika regla guy, but I'm a caup.
RB: (Contemplates walking away for several seconds). Huh?
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: I said I look lika regla guy, but I'm a caup. I look out for people. I look for people like you.
RB: You're a cop?
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: (Nods)
RB: Well, let's see some ID then.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: (Jumps off bike, holds the bike up with one hand, makes a fist with the other. Jumps up and down while holding the bike upright). HEEZ YA FUCKIN ID! HEEZ ALL THE FUCKIN ID YAH NEED!
RB: (Realizing he must protect camera) I'm done with you. Get away from me. (Begins to walk away, back toward subway entrance).
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: Yah betta getda fuck attaheeya!
RB walks around the subway entrance to a large bus map on which the phone number for the MBTA Police is listed. As RB dials the dispatcher on his cellphone, the DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR storms around the station entrance on his bicycle, veering between pedestrians, and pulls up to RB, shouting...DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: YAH BETTA NOT BE CALLIN THE FUCKIN CAUPS ON ME! I'M A CAUP! HEEZ MY FUCKIN BADGE! HEEZ MY FUCKIN BADGE! (Drunk does nothing to reach for or present said badge)
RB: I see you're a real professional, cursing at me.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: [immemorable expletive]
RB: I told you, I'm done with you. You better get away from me.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: YOU betta get da fuck attaheeya!
RB: See ya. (Enters station, redials police).
POLICE DISPATCHER: MBTApolicethiscallisbeingrecorded.
RB reports DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR to police, then continues on to buy running shoes. Like a bad caffeine high, fight/flight adrenaline supply takes full hour to subside.
I didn't know it was possible to handle these without cursing or fighting. I learned that today.
Labels: conflict, photography, somerville
