On Route 21 if you need assistance boarding it's announced to all with pneumatic fanfare. We hear the whoosh, feel the dip to the right, and know that if we are in one of the wheel chair seats we have to move. If we're not in one of those seats we settle in for the short delay while the wheel chair passenger is secured.
The man I called Scooter was big, way over 6' if he had been standing, with a big fresh bandage on his leg. I saw my dad go through this. First you replace a little piece of artery. Later the leg will have to go. It's the progression of arteriosclerosis, or diabetes. He looked to be just starting down that road in his shiny new scooter.
His first mistake was backing onto the bus. Once he was on he was stuck. All eyes were on him as he repeatedly backed up and moved forward. With each repetition he gained maybe an inch. With each repetition his face turned another degree toward the floor. It took more than 5 minutes for Scooter to get situated. Up and back, Up and back. It was hard to watch.
His second mistake was boarding with an uncovered drink in his cup holder. Each repetition sloshed a little soda out leaving a syrupy stream from the front door to his chair. "This is why you can't bring uncovered drinks on the bus!" the driver scolded while pointing to the spill. He looked, and sounded just like me when I come home to find my chihuahua has peed on the floor. Scooter had the same look as my chihuahua. If he had a tail it would have been between his legs.
The bus driver taught me a lesson that day. My chihuahua deserves better.
I'll see you on Route 21, but don't look for Scooter anytime soon.
Route 21 is a real bus route. It's one of the longest in the city. Sure it connects me from the casa to the workplace, but it also connects me to a great deal more.
No comments:
Post a Comment