Good karma gives good timing.

Last night I was invited to a friend's Birthday Party. She was celebrating at a pub right by Pike Place Market called  Kell's. I had never been there before and it is in an awkward area for driving, so naturally I was running late.

As usual, I prefer to just pay for parking in a lot, instead of driving around forever. So I found a place on Western, that I thought wouldnt be too far of a walk. At least within a few blocks - a decent distance for ambling around trying to find where you are going.

I get out of the car, and start fishing for cash. I almost never carry cash, for many reasons, but tonight I didnt want to take any chances on dealing with debit parking woes. A tall man approached me, he looked a little disheveled.

"Hey man, by any chance do you happen to have a cigarette?" he said, as a plastic bag twisted in his hand.

"Ya dude. Here you go." I fished out my pack and he made a face at me. He apparently thought that I was not prepared, and was giving him my second to last.

"Thank you so much. Hey, whats your name man?" He extended his hand.

I could see the true thankfullness in his aura. He felt grateful. And I am never one to turn down that, or friendliness. So I shook his hand like an equal. "Im Jay. Like the letter."

He shared his name. But I always forget. We then had a very brief chat - maybe three sentences. "Well Jay ... God bless you my friend, you just saved my life."

"No big deal dude. You have a great night, okay?" I told him as I tried to conceal a smile. The silliness in my mind was a juicy steak of amusement. Cigarettes are known to cause cancer. I gave him one. He thanked me for saving his life. Thats priceless.

I went over to the pay area - a machine. At first I grabbed the 10 in my pocket, but for some odd reason, I didnt use it. I felt I should use my debit card. So I did. And messed up the transaction twice - I have bad parking problems with these machines in Seattle. In short, they perennially hate me. The feeling is mutual. This was not the worst experience, so it only took under a minute.

I grabbed the printed receipt and put it in my car. Still smiling about the interaction, I left the lot and turned left. I looked up the street - its a steep uphill climb walled by the buildings one side. The other side has the bottom of Pike Place Market, whose ground floor is maybe 50 feet above me. I got about 10 feet up the street, and thought, "Man, this is gonna suck." This thought was interrupted by the echoes of yelling.

My head was down, and I was zoned out a bit, trying to decide how to find this place. Where I was. The best route to tackle the ginormous hill. A million things not related to my Now. Women, words, wild wisdoms. 

POP! POP!

The sound echoed off the cavernous street and my world became an instant replay. Slow motion. My brain was hyperactively placid ... processing the moment in pseudo time that doesnt make sense. It went as such:

Gunshots. Those were gunshots. Wait, no. Those were fireworks, they didnt have the right gerth for gunshots. The echoes were off. M-80s? Okay, wait. Look down - no holes, no blood. Do you not see it, where could it be?

I dont *feel* anything. Is that good or bad?

Wait, what is going on here? Confusion. There is  screaming up the street. Its deep and resonating. Controlled Panic. Forceful enough to strike the primal chord in all of us ... *That* is authority. Listen man, pay attention.

Real Time and I resynched. It sounded like when your hand stops the record platter completely and then lets it go. The lyric took a noticeable moment to get to full speed. 

"Get the FUCK down!" The man screamed. "Get down right NOW."

The world came in focus. I scanned quickly. I caught two dark figures by the parked cars about 60 feet up the sidewalk from me.  One was looming over something that appeared to be in between cars.

"Put your hands where I can see them!" The voice commanded the space by the cars. "Call 911!"

Still walking right towards the commotion, I looked down at my chest again. I noticed nothing. And my sole thought was this, in a very calm inner voice, "Now is not the time to be on this side of the street. Cross right now." And I did - thinking Jaywalking be damned.

On the other side of the street, I just looked forward and actively listened, intently. I tried to pick apart the nonsense and determine what I needed to do. Nothing was being asked of me in this moment. It seemed under control, and if it was not, my interference would not further help the situation. That was apparent.

I passed them and kept walking. A minute later, the sirens were wailing. Cop cars converged on the scene - there must have been at least 10 of them there within a minute. I think I heard an ambulance too. The response was impressive. 

At the top of the hill, a group of females pointed out that there was a helicopter in the sky. They concluded it must have been a police copter. Who knows. They talked about their thoughts, and what was going on.

And my thoughts were simple:

The fumbling with the parking machine. The amount of time spent with a stranger ... that brief encounter. Those moments add up to about 60 feet of me walking. The distance between safe enough, and who knows.

I wonder - did I 'save his life', or did he possibly save mine?

Yes. Good Karma gives good timing.

(you can read the full story from the press in today's Post Intelligencer)