My Element.

After 10 days of microwaved soup and oatmeal, our gas was turned back on.

The gas man and I started talking about the cross-town series this weekend between
the Cubs and the White Sox. I asked him what made this rivalry so rich, and so deep.

'I could spend hours trying to explain it to you, and you still wouldn't understand'.

I kind of felt like he was belittling me, an avid Cubs fan, but his wrench was on the
gas main and I really wanted to eat something warm tonight. So I bit my tongue.
He kind of took it upon himself to start explaining it to me, though, and after about 15 minutes the conversation turned to race, class, and beer (consumption).
I got to talking about how I had lived here nine years ago, only in a slightly better, safer, neighbourhood.

This is where it all happened again.

He told me that my girlfriend and I were crazy to be living in this area. He said that once it gets hot, really hot, that we should mind our business and stay away from the window. He said that they don't look where they are shooting, and that their aim is usually quite pathetic.
He said, you are out of your element.

The gas was back on now, and I was scared stiff. I figured this was a good time to say thanks, take care, and be safe. He said, the same to you.

He looked me in the eyes when he said that. I knew he meant it. As he shook my hand, I knew he was right. I am out of my element.