One night as we drove up Queen Street, you spotted a group of young women at the edge of Aotea Square. The scene unfolding in front of us appeared to be that they were being harassed by a group of young men nearby.
You and John decided that you would jump out of the car and follow the young women on foot to avert any danger. I drove around to the other side of the Town Hall ready to meet you once you were satisfied that the women were safe.
It's much harder to be the hero, though, when the necessity strikes closer to home.
When the outcome won't be grateful thanks and adulation but potential anger and heartbreak.
When the risk is higher but the costs are greater.
When there is nobody to see you.
It doesn't stop it being the right thing, though.
Does it?
