You're a peeing on my parade! Please. Stop.

I knew he was European because of his clothes.
Men from Europe dress like men from Europe.

As me and the European man smiled at one another on Yonge St. during the G8,
a dude pulled out his dick and sauntered to the "gutter" and pee'd. It wasn't a gutter, it was the side of Yonge Street in downtown Toronto.
My European man laughed in disdain and having my full attention said
"You're peeing on my parade."
His accent was Slavic.

A few minutes later, Eaton Centre windows were being violated. The peeing man made a dash toward the storefronts. European man and I watched all this together as we walked in the crowds.

I watched European man eye line away from my gaze to the source of the racket;
watched him walk over and reach the pee'ing man's black clad hand which held now, not his dick but a coke bottle filled with sand.
The European man only let go this boys arm after the bottle dropped harmlessly to the ground.

And then he threw the kid, not across or over the crowd, he simply threw the kid to the ground with laced fingers and two solid wrists into the small of the kids back. The kid crumpled on all fours.

"Please. Stop". the kid wailed.
I went along my way and European man never looked my way after we'd split the eye contact.
I will always remember that European man.

Would have liked to buy that European man a beer.

Clarissa