It was about 20 years ago, I don’t remember. About 2020 or thereabouts. New Year’s Eve. I was on my own as usual, no partner, no nothing. I was invited to a dinner at my sister’s brother-in-law. He worked in some government department and was quite the loudmouth, but likeable. His girlfriend was good looking and feisty.
They lived in the West End, very bougie, but of course they were above all of that. A corner flat in an impressive block of flats, built in the boom of the 1890’s, lots of cornices, mouldings and terrazzo stairways.
The dinner was fine, I forget what we ate. We were just those two, my sister and her husband, and me as fifth wheel, the charity case.
We drank, as Norwegians do, fast and regular, wine and bubbles. We all got well-oiled, but nothing untoward. Midnight approached with the light popping of rockets, some people just can’t wait for the clock to strike.
At twelve we moved out onto their top floor balcony, a little eagle’s nest cut into the roof. A good six inches of snow on every surface. We toasted each other with Champagne and basked in the falling embers of a million Chinese fireworks.
The novelty and gunpowder wore off after some minutes and I leaned over the ledge and watched the stragglers on the wide streets making their way home in furs and evening gowns. They irritated me with their carefreelessness, meandering gait and overbearing voices.
I gathered heavy snow form the gables around me and packed it into satisfyingly heavy snowballs. I started pelting the revelers on the boulevard below and hit quite a few. They were angry and surprised, shouting loudly and looking around for the culprit. Their anger was surprising and heartfelt. I ducked away and giggled, a child again, excitement in my veins.
On a neighbouring balcony across the street a party witnessed my misdeeds. They must have been a good 150 meters away but I could tell they weren’t happy. A few of the guys in the group took it upon themselves to vigilantisise and they started making snowballs and chucking them in my direction, shouting all the while.
There was no chance that they’d hit me, no human could at that range, so I paid them no mind.
I got more cocky and lobbed more at the civilians down below.
Suddenly I was hit. A hard ball of snow got me square in the forehead. It couldn’t have been more accurate, right between the eyes, hard and hurtful, an explosion of wetness and cold.
It sobered me up, of course, but it once and forever taught me that randomness is not random and that somewhere out there there is a projectile with my name upon it, homing in, and it will take me out no matter how secure I might feel. The line of fire is way wider than I could ever have imagined.