CROSS & ANGRY in Cross Roads

Recently, while in the Cross Roads area engaged in nothing suspect, I heard a loud shout. Of course, if you've spent any time in the area, you know this is nothing new, however, there was a womanly, almost melodic tone to this bellow that, in the midst of the hustle and bustle, seemed oddly out of place.

"Yuh nasty eeh!" the woman yelled. I looked in the direction of the exclamation.

On the concrete island separating lanes of roadway there was a little left of a withering plant. On it, someone had placed about six pairs of trousers. An odd sight, even by Cross Roads standards.

"Teck up yuh nasty pants offa di people dem tree!" the woman shouted. That's when I got my first look at her. She was a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties and had long, braided hair. She had on a red blouse and white jeans shorts.

The woman was standing in the shade of a bus stop across the road from the hanging pants.

Next to her, sitting on the ground, was a shirtless man with grey hair. He had a book in his hand and appeared to be reading.

He looked up at the woman.

"Gweh from round me!" he yelled.

"Yuh ah go wash dem fi mi? Move from yah!"

The woman's eyes widened and her face became almost as red as her blouse. The ensuing few seconds were spent in the delivery of a trail of profanity expelled with some amount of violence. To look at her, you would never have thought she had it in her. The man, who also appeared shocked by the woman's outburst, went silent. The woman stormed off, apparently abandoning her plans to catch a bus.

This left the man by himself. Now, apparently, this fellow is well known in the area and has developed a reputation of being a bit crotchety. His actions, which often appear to relegate him to the realm of the bewildered, have been driving a lot of people nuts.

A man on a bicycle rode by him. "Yuh again?" he shouted. "Move yuh clothes offa di tree! Yuh pread out lakka butta pan bread!"

The man sitting on the ground hissed. The fellow on the bicycle rode off without saying anything else.

A short, bearded man walking by saw me looking in the direction of the unfolding action and stopped.

"Ah wah gwaan yah so?" he asked. I looked at him. He had tired eyes and a pointy nose.

I gestured toward the man sitting on the ground and mentioned the trouble he seemed to be causing.

The man with the pointy nose seemed annoyed. "Ah true, man!" he said. The tired look disappeared from his eyes. "Him heng up him pants inna everybody face. Ah who wah see him pants?" the man asked. I shrugged. With apparent anger, he then stormed off in the direction of the pants hanger. I braced myself for what might have happened next and couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, since I was the one who had pointed him out.

I tried to call out to the man with the pointy nose to suggest that he leave the matter alone, but the sound of traffic drowned me out.

I stood in trepidation as he approached the man on the ground.

I couldn't hear what they were saying, but animated hand gestures told the tale. I cringed and thought, for a moment, of going over there to attempt to forge peace between the two.

It was then that I noticed some movement in the vicinity of the hanging pants.

A lone figure dressed in a pair of black pants and a green T shirt was standing in front of the tree. I couldn't see what he was doing but his arms were moving quickly. Before I could process what was happening, the man made one swift grab and ran off with at least three pairs of the pants. His quick sprint across the roadway would have made Usain Bolt gasp.

Realising what had transpired, the man sitting on the ground abandoned his argument with the fellow with the point nose, sprung to his feet and shouted: "Oy! Weh yuh ah go wid mi pants?"

But it was too late. The pants grabber, who some say was only fed up with the sight of the hanging trousers on a busy roadway and was not actually planning on someday sporting the garments himself, had disappeared around a bend.

Where should Robert go next? Let him know at robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com.