Today it took me 2 1/2 hours to get home from work. I fell. I missed several buses. I wasn't let onto a bus I was running for and got the driver-favorite shrug that says "what can I do?" and "screw you" at the same time. A driver wouldn't let me off of a bus. And, the PAT customer service line had a busy signal for a straight hour. I'd go into details but then I'd get all riled up and no one really cares because this has happened to everyone in one fashion or another... except that I think my coat is ruined, I definitely sprained my foot (minor), and I rediscovered (IN FULL FORCE) my hatred of the Port Authority. The icing on the cake was being sprayed with coffee-colored sludge by the 30 million buses that zoomed past me that weren't the buses I was waiting for. And I lost my gloves somewhere. And oh yeah, it took me 2 1/2 freakin hours to get home today.
The only bright spot in this whole day was helping an older woman cross the street.
When I reached for her hand, she took mine and confided that she "should have kept [her] ass home today, but Bobby needs his prescription."
Oh Pittsburgh, you push me away and push me away, but your unparalleled charms will always pull me right back into your big stinky embrace.
Showing posts with label Snow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Snow. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Friday, December 7, 2007
I'm trying to be heroic in an age of modernity*
This morning, while waiting to transfer to my second morning bus during a gusty snowfall, my friend from Elderberry Junction (the woman in my very first blog post) sidled into the bus shelter next to me. I haven't seen her in awhile, so I smiled at her and she smiled at me, and we waited for our bus in the blustery cold, occasionally glancing at one another, or at the sun that was just beginning to peak over the horizon. When the bus finally came, I dutifully ensured that she boarded just in front of me, so that I could support her if she needed a hand.
I feel a responsibility for her such that, if she knew, I know she would be offended. Despite this, when she clutched the standing bar at the front of the bus, rather than taking a very close vacant seat I said, "Don't you want to sit down?"
She hesitantly stepped forward (with me one step behind her), and before she began her second step, her feet went out from under her. It happened quickly and slowly at the same time. It was fast enough that I was startled and frightened, but slow enough that I had a chance to think and brace myself (despite the fact that I was wearing knee-high stiletto boots**) so that I could catch her without falling over myself.
The floor was so wet that even though I caught her, and stopped her from further falling, her feet kept sliding, so both of us were inching closer and closer to being parallel with the (very wet and dirty) floor. Two girls in nearby seats immediately lunged forward to help, and one of them said "you're okay" a few times in the most reassuring, yet pitiless voice I've ever heard. She had the tone so many doctors strive for, but can never deliver.
As the three of us finally righted ourselves, I felt proud of humanity at large. I see people do so many disgusting and heartless things sometimes that I've really come to appreciate it when strangers go beyond simply being civil to one another.
As the woman finished her trek to her seat she mumbled "that's why I didn't want to sit down in the first place" and I felt guilty and responsible. I felt like she was saying it to me. It's equally possible that it was just something to say after experiencing something embarassing (I think of how many times I've tripped and mumbled "stupid shoes" just in case anyone was within earshot), but it's just as possible that it really was directed to me and she was mad that I coaxed her into sitting.
Oh well. Maybe next time she won't sit, but for this time, I'm happy I caught her.
* this is a lyric from Bloc Party's song "Song for Clay: Disappear Here"
** No, I'm not a prostitute.
I feel a responsibility for her such that, if she knew, I know she would be offended. Despite this, when she clutched the standing bar at the front of the bus, rather than taking a very close vacant seat I said, "Don't you want to sit down?"
She hesitantly stepped forward (with me one step behind her), and before she began her second step, her feet went out from under her. It happened quickly and slowly at the same time. It was fast enough that I was startled and frightened, but slow enough that I had a chance to think and brace myself (despite the fact that I was wearing knee-high stiletto boots**) so that I could catch her without falling over myself.
The floor was so wet that even though I caught her, and stopped her from further falling, her feet kept sliding, so both of us were inching closer and closer to being parallel with the (very wet and dirty) floor. Two girls in nearby seats immediately lunged forward to help, and one of them said "you're okay" a few times in the most reassuring, yet pitiless voice I've ever heard. She had the tone so many doctors strive for, but can never deliver.
As the three of us finally righted ourselves, I felt proud of humanity at large. I see people do so many disgusting and heartless things sometimes that I've really come to appreciate it when strangers go beyond simply being civil to one another.
As the woman finished her trek to her seat she mumbled "that's why I didn't want to sit down in the first place" and I felt guilty and responsible. I felt like she was saying it to me. It's equally possible that it was just something to say after experiencing something embarassing (I think of how many times I've tripped and mumbled "stupid shoes" just in case anyone was within earshot), but it's just as possible that it really was directed to me and she was mad that I coaxed her into sitting.
Oh well. Maybe next time she won't sit, but for this time, I'm happy I caught her.
* this is a lyric from Bloc Party's song "Song for Clay: Disappear Here"
** No, I'm not a prostitute.
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