Window washer

I'm in this 11th floor office tower and there is a squeaking noise from my window.  I turn around and look out.  It’s a window washer.  He is just hanging out there with his ropes and bucket, calmly cleaning my office windows from the outside.  I am reminded of that scene from Matrix when Neo is being reamed out by his boss for coming in late and he is distracted by the squeaking noise from the window.  That was a bizarre scene. 

I remember thinking at the time - how weird is that?  I mean here are two worlds sort of suspended in the air, separated by glass.  On one side is this luxurious setting with all these forced rules.  On the other side is this guy hanging from ropes keeping the proverbial cage all spotless from the outside.  Two people on either side of the glass awkwardly avoid each others eyes.  Two disconnected strangers cosmically sharing one bizarre moment.

And here I was actually living in that bizarre scene – with a few changes.

I nodded at the window washer and he nodded back.  Without a break in his rhythm, he continued lathering, wiping, and grinning at me moving from window to window horizontally and then moving down vertically till he was out of my line of sight.  His greeting to me and mine to him was of two strangers comfortable in our own worlds, recognizing each other at work.

An hour or so later I go out to stretch my legs.  There is a little park behind the office tower.  It’s about 11am in the morning so the lunch crowd hasn't descended on it.  I get a coffee, grab a bench and quietly sit there soaking in the cool air and weak sunlight.  It feels like about 15 degrees Celsius.  I light a cigarette and contemplate the challenges of the day.  Then I see him. 

This guy is sitting a little farther up on another bench facing towards me.  I recognize the face of my window washer - it was the same face - full of weird piercings.  I nod at him in recognition.  He nods back but it’s not a recognition nod.  Its one of those nods - when you feel compelled to nod back - but your eyes are all confused because you really aren't sure why the other person nodded at you in the first place; and there is this underlying hint of resentment at being embarrassed for not remembering the other when the other remembers you.

That forced nod got me thinking.  When he saw me in my office, through the window, on the 11th floor - he was more than happy to nod back.  Then he was nodding at what I represented rather than at me.  I was nodding at what he represented rather than him too.  Even in the park, I nodded at him only after I recognized that he was my window washer.  If I had not recognized what he represented, I would have ignored him, just as he was painfully trying to ignore my nod to him too.

So many relationships in our life depend on the place that we are in and not the humanity of each other.  Change the environment, that changes what we represent and those relationships cease to exist. 

The skeptic within me shrugs in acceptance of this fact.  The idealist within me rejects these transient relationships based on the superficialities of what we represent.  The rationalist within me tells me there is no material difference between the two.

The dimwit within me, of course couldn't care about any of those high-falutin thoughts.  The dimwit is busy fantasizing what it would be like to hang from the ropes, to clean the natural grime off building windows.  

The realist knows that the dimwit is already hanging from the ropes of his opinions and attempting to clean the grime of prejudice off the windows of human perspectives.