The Curse of Sensitization

I was crossing campus on my way home today when I heard raised voices. This isn't unusual; BYU students are notorious for immaturity and frivolity. What really caught my attention was the tone of the voice. He sounded genuinely upset. It didn't take long for me to locate the source of the disruption; two men were standing toe to toe in front of the JFSB.

One was shouting, the other was quietly trying to talk him down. "Why are you touching me? Stop touching me!" The calmer man took a careful step backward, hands raised in surrender.

At this point I was still doubting the genuineness of this confrontation. After all, this was BYU. The likelihood that these men were actors or social science students was much higher. It wasn't until the Douche dropped the F-bomb that I realized it was real.

The Shouting Douche continued to rant and rave before he dropped a few more F-bombs then finally retreated into the building. The calmer man remained standing where he was, likely in shock, then slowly walked away.

What really floored me was the lack of reaction around me. No one was even looking! I wanted desperately to shout at the Douche, "Shut up before you embarrass yourself anymore! And get off this campus, you don't deserve to be here!" But I doubted anyone would have backed me up. They probably figured it was safer to keep their heads down. Pansies.

I was also surprised by how much hearing those words shocked me. I consider myself fairly desensitized as far as cursing goes, thanks to a few favorite rated-R movies and growing up in Southern California (and my dad). Maybe I've gotten soft. Or maybe it's because I heard it on BYU campus, the last place in the world besides a temple I would expect to hear foul language.

Whatever the case, I was genuinely surprised, and even more surprised by the fact that I was surprised in the first place.