Today was my first day back to school for the Spring semester. I think I'm almost done, but I kind of don't pay attention. I don't count credits, I just pile them all and figure once I'm out of courses to register for there will be a happy piece of paper I'm supposed to frame that says "All done! Thanks for the cash. Love, Your Local College" This semester I confidently took on a five day a week classes-in-a-classroom schedule. Check my pulse again in twelve weeks and ask me what I thought I was doing?
I got up early, and hopped around on one foot to brush my teeth and change my clothes and prepare for the extended commute time with the combo of my slow moving self and the slosh pile that is New York City, right now. My first thought every morning for the past week has been "Do I really have to change my underwear...?!" They're all the way up at my hips, and my broken, booted, bandaged foot is all the way down on the ground, and the amount of energy it takes to pull clothing over just that one foot should be measured and used as a Green Power Source or something. I really think I could fuse at least my bedroom light.
Anyways, after spending $34 on a fourty-five minute cab ride, because I can't walk much in general right now, let alone in slush, and school is of course all the way downtown, I arrived to class on time only to discover that the classroom was wrong. And at the other campus. Four blocks away. Through snow, ice, and slush puddles. I'd love to add barefoot and uphill for extra umph and whining-induced-pitty for myself, but it was bad enough with what I had on already. The other campus is a simple five minute walk away in water proof boots, normally, but now about thirteen minutes for a current gimp like me. A few choice words and prayers while trying to maneuver through Mother Nature's leftovers got me through. Yes, you can curse and pray at the same time. Thus far, I have not been struck down... I think it's because He understands.
Reaching the other campus in a glorified, dry and un-infected state I was then informed the classroom is, of course, aaaallllll the way at the end of the building. Ten more minutes (indoors thankfully) and the classroom turns out to be an office with a nice man letting me know that my professor made an mistake and asked that we be re-routed to another classroom, of course right next to the entrance I had just come from. Ten more minutes back (on an aching foot at this point) and I finally found my class, with fifteen minutes left. The professor apologized profusely for the printed mistake and not noticing it until yesterday when the school was closed due the blizzard, but reassured us that the room would not be changing again.
Ok, hurtle over come, it could be worse, I pump myself back up, am glad I wasn't the only one running around like a idiot (many other students came in with and after me), and was ready to go about my day! It was only 9:50 A.M. after all, I still had so much ahead to enjoy!
Ever ambitious, definitely in denial, and typically headstrong, I decided I could take the train one stop to work rather than spend more money on cabs like I've had to do all week. I wish insurance covered transportation during healing, too. Honestly I miss the train. I miss reading in my seat as we speed along underground in metal boxes of any-moment-adventures, or being shoved maliciously by strangers as everyone crowds to get on. It's a New Yorkers way of socializing and I kinda like it, okay?
One successful stop later and I'm feeling good! Until I get onto the block that spans W. 12th Street, 7th Ave, and Greenwich Ave all in one, and every. single. cross way. is piled high with snow or washed out with deep lakes of dirty melted nasty-ness. I really had not seen it this bad in my neighborhood or near the school, or I wouldn't have even considered training / walking. I physically could not get across and had just marooned myself by crossing onto that block. Of course, everywhere on the OPPOSITE side of the street, where I wanted to get to, was clear and unthreatening, but I was stranded. I circled the block twice evaluating every crossing and watching others cross (and come out sopping on the other side) and I felt completely stranded and helpless and angry and sore and stupid and jealous and like I'd played a mean joke on myself. I felt like a rat in a public maze and wondered if anyone in the surrounding coffee shops had begun counting how many times the peg-legged girl in the marshmallow North Face coat had circled.
Finally I re-tracked my steps back to my original exit off the train, mapped out a way to cross 7th Ave on one side, cross back over to the other, land on Greenwich Ave, walk in the street a little bit, cross over to W. 11th St and THEN get to the front doorstep of my job. In total, I circled the block for fifteen minutes, criss-crossed for ten, and walked five more just to get where I needed to go; arriving thirty minutes later for a usual jaunt (even in bad weather) that takes four and three quarter minutes tops. A $10 cab ride was seeming pretty worth it by the time I walked in, still early thankfully, with no kids to pick up from school because I had been smart enough to let people know I wouldn't be able to trek back and forth with children in this muck, and dumb enough to just prove it to myself.
Awoogachaucka!
1 comment:
oh my HELL. that sounds SO miserable. Your poor purple foot! And the number one rule is to not get it wet, are you CRAZY? Everyone has a love/hate relationship with the NY, and its during those moments the HATE takes the cake. But then when the hate part is over it makes for an entertaining story! So that you may now have a turn laughing (just like those watching you) your story reminds me of the time of year I despise the most. The annual UN convention. Me living 2 blocks from the UN, I am literally a prisoner in my own neighborhood. Trying to get back home from the West side, I couldnt get a cab, hailed a town car, sat stand still in traffic while Xan was having a panic bloody murder attack flailing all over the back seat and pounding the windows. The driver who once spoke english to me, began to say words in a language I did not recognize and repeating them over and over again as if he was either casting a spell on us, or saying a prayer before he sacrificed us all (both of which I didnt blame him). Mortified, and seeing I was only 5 blocks away I jumped out, carrying my blasted screaming child, who was pulling out my hair, arching his back with hopes of slithering out of my arms and scaring all the mobs of people trapped on every street corner. Obama was supposed to drive through any second so there were only specific streets I could cross. Right as I wanted to spank my child in public, he got me first by head butting my face, and giving me a bloody nose. They had me walking 15 blocks out of the way, every step Im being abused by my child. Just as when my home was 1 block from me, the barricade prison nazis wouldnt let me pass, my arms were going to break off, I had blood dripping into my mouth and i felt bad spots in my head. My kid was scaring everyone. I was humiliated, i had a stupid bloody nose and did the only thing I could think of. Cry. In front of everyone. Begging to cross the damn street. Xander screamed and cried, and I joined right along with him. The best part- It got us no where. People just looked at us awkwardly and stared at their phones. 20 minutes later I got home and didnt leave again for 5 days after the dumby head president was gone. the end.
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