Paying it Forward

Last night at the Camden Yards, I bought two beers and was bringing them up to my seat. I handed one of them to a friend, but as I was about to sit down, I got distracted by something behind me and spilled a few drops - about an ounce, really - on the head of the boy in from of me. He was probably about eleven years old, and was sitting next to his dad. Both of them were keeping score. The boy just kind of rubbed his head in confusion, but the dad glared at me. It was an honest mistake, and I apologized, but still I was embarrassed.

As I sat there for the next half inning or so, I had a little flashback of going to Shea Stadium with my dad when I was eleven or twelve, and hearing him grumble about the obnoxious drunk guys sitting behind us. And I thought about the drunk bros whose presence I had to endure at an outdoor concert about a month ago. (The back of my t-shirt was fairly soaked with Bud Light by the end of the ordeal.) I wanted to explain to the man in front of me that I wasn't even drunk, that I was an upstanding citizen, a high school teacher and a generally good guy. I wanted to explain that I was especially non-threatening and decent  in comparison to your run-of-the-mill bleacher rum. But at that moment, to that guy, I was just the idiot who spilled beer on his son.

An inning later, the two of them moved seats to a spot a couple rows behind us - which officially made me the guy who prompts families to change seats at a baseball game. I couldn't deal with that. So between innings, I approached the two of them, apologized again and asked if either of them needed a hot dog or an ice cream. The dad played it off: "No thanks. Don't worry about it." So I asked the kid, if he liked ice cream and predictably, he nodded his head yes. So I went down into the concourse and picked up an overpriced dish of vanilla soft serve with orange and black sprinkles.

I'd never really done anything like that before and it made me feel good. But honestly - and I really wish this wasn't the case - I was a little sorry that a few more people didn't witness me doing what I thought was a really nice thing. And that kind of defeats the purpose: you're supposed to do something like that because it's the right thing to do, not because you want the accolades.

I really wish I could have been like the guy I met a few years ago at Primanti Brothers restaurant in Pittsburgh: I told him it was my first time eating the famous sandwich, he gave me a recommendation and we chatted for a while. Only after he left and I went to pay my bill did I learn that he had picked up my tab. No accolades necessary for that guy:apparently, the satisfaction of doing a nice thing for someone else was enough. And he didn't even have to pour beer on me first.

But I doubt I would have done something like that if I hadn't been motivated by my own guilt. I want to think that's not the case, but it probably is. And I probably wouldn't have done it if the recipient wasn't there to thank me. Still though, I'm glad the kid enjoyed his ice cream. And I'm glad that when that dad and son got home, and mom asked why her son smelled like stale beer, dad could have been able to say, "Some idiot spilled beer on his head. But then he made up for it."