I'm not particularly proud of myself today.

On my way home from debate, I met a man sitting near the edge of the sidewalk at the bus stop. He wore a scruffy looking tee shirt and plain shorts. He also had a bag hung over his neck, much like how one would wear a necklace.

Him sitting near the edge of the sidewalk with all the buses whizzing by, unnerved me.

In a single glance, I had already formed a preconceived motion that he had to be a beggar.

"Must be sent by those syndicates to cash in on the Christmas season," I reasoned.

On a second look, I noticed a huge cyst wrapping his right ankle. And within 2 minutes of seeing this man, I had condemned him to be a cheat, playing upon the sympathy of good natured bypassers.

Some people chose to ignore his presence.
Others cast sideway glances and whispered fervently to their friends.

I could not take my eyes off him.

I witnessed the people jump over him.
I saw them walk around him.
I watched as the world, so busy, disregarded him.

A lady came by. I mentioned to a friend that I liked the white bag she was carrying. I thought she would go up to him to offer him some change. Instead, she squinted at the bus guide found next to him.

The man gazed up at her as she read the bus guide and rubbed her tummy.

Not very long after, he started to move, dragging his limp lower body with his arms over the pavement. I could almost feel the harsh ground cut into my own flesh, as he inched his way towards the bus.

I saw the same woman scurry up the bus. And the man followed suit.

I observed him drag himself up the steps of the bus.
I stared as he raised his arm to plop in the coins for the bus fare.
I looked on as the bus driver leaned over the side to watch the man drag himself further into the bus.

"Is he following that woman?!" I panicked.

Suddenly, I realized how unfairly I had stereotyped this man.

What wrong had he done?

Nothing.

What did he do to deserve such disrespect?

Nothing.

Who was I to pass such judgment onto a fellow human being?

No one.

I fixed my gaze on the bus as it pulled out of the bus stop and down the road, with the crippled man and the lady with the white bag I admired.

That man did me no wrong.
I had no excuse to despise him.
Yet I did.

On the bus ride home, I sat in the chilly air-conditioned upper deck and mulled over what happened. I had morphed into just another bitch with a heart as cold as the artificially cooled bus.

I had unjustly discriminated another simply because he was different.

A beggar would have chosen a better place to beg.
A beggar would have called out for your attention.
A beggar would have stretched out his hand for alms.
A beggar would not have paid for his bus fare.

If that man ever reads this, I would like to say that I'm sorry.
Really sorry.