I'd hoped he would stay away, and I thought he'd left FAU in the incapable hands of the poor street preacher who found himself surrounded by a beat-boxing bunch of hip-hoppers who took advantage of the crowd the preacher had gathered by calling passersby sinners and whores to try to sell their cd's, but I guess I was mistaken, because as I walked back from my last class of the day today, there he was.
Same outfit as always--suspenders, khakis, long-sleeved shirt and cabbie hat, Bible in one hand, pointed finger on the other, and his grating, strident voice doing its damnedest to drown out the Public Enemy on my iPod. I ignored him today, like I generally do. He was taking on a couple of well-meaning young men who were trying to engage him honestly, as young people often do, but at least they didn't get mad, which denied Brother Micah his prize.
I don't engage him--never do, since that's what he wants--but I do try to disrupt his flow if he has a crowd going, by simply refusing to grant him the space for his audience. If there's a crowd gathered around, and giving him a wide berth, I walk through the empty space, acting completely unaware of what's going on around me. It's a mild form of protest, but I feel have to show just how unimportant he is.
Labels: Brother Micah.