When Mr Bean Became Human

I don't watch much TV, but this much I know about TV shows: I hate shows like Mr Bean and America's Funniest Home Videos.

Why?

Because every time I watch Mr Bean about to do something that we ALL know is going to completely embarrass him, I cringe knowing that he's going to go ahead and do it anyway. Like the time he tries to beat the parking barrier at the parking lot by timing it just nicely to run over the blue van. Or when he runs into the women's changing room at the pool naked after he lost his shorts.

Maybe I have too much empathy, but I die a little bit inside every time I watch Mr Bean or the kid falling off his bike embarrass themselves.

The other day when I was at the store, I noticed this guy poised like he was ready to tee off, except 1) he didn't have a golf club in his hands, and 2) he was standing beside the box of bok choy. I try not to giggle as I'm walking by, just in time for him to turn around and notice me. I smiled and kept on walking as he apologised and tried to sheepishly explain that he was "just practising my strokes".

I struggled to keep the giggles contained as I rolled my eyes inside, thinking, "right, just showing off your strokes to the bok choy, ay?"

That very same moment, that Mr Bean moment hit me.

Mr Bean became human in the Indian guy practising his strokes at the veggie shop (a very good-looking and sheepish Indian guy too, if I might add).

He didn't owe me any kind of explanation about what he was doing, but because of that 2-second interaction, the Mr Bean that I could keep my distance from while he was on The Tube became human to me.

It made me think of the conversation I had with Emily just a few days prior to that exchange at the veggie shop. We were discussing the latest project she had commissioned me on--a written one this time--and I had reached a point where I didn't know how to proceed without compromising the code of ethics I had developed over time to protect the stories I had started collecting. As I tried to explain that it made me uncomfortable simply publicizing stories that I had been trusted with without permission, even if the owners of these stories may never find out, Emily interrupted my verbal-diarrhoea with the simple,

"Stop being sorry it makes perfect sense. They are not [just those people]... they became human beings... people... to you they have names a history hearts and you have to protect them"

In the moments as I loaded up the groceries in the van, still trying to stifle the giggles from "Mr Bean," I understood exactly what Emily meant.

Yes, I had empathy for Mr Bean, but I could easily turn the TV off. But the guy at the veggie shop and all the other characters of the stories I've been collecting--they became human beings. "They have names, a history, hearts, and you have to protect them." They're not just the funny-looking Englishman on The Tube, a statistic in the news, a case-study in the textbooks.

They became human, like the guy in the veggie shop practising his stroke.