Do you have enough money to go into that store?
“Do you have enough money to go into that store?”
I lifted my face to the woman, hoping my look conveyed my confusion.
After walking what felt like the longest four blocks in my life, I just wanted to get inside, where it was warm and dry, and, I hoped, free of snow banks. What was this weirdness about whether I had money? I looked like I was walking into the store, didn’t I? Don’t people usually take money with them into stores?
On the other hand, how did she know I was coming to the store to get money?
Yes, this day was definitely morphing from exasperating to weird.
It was a cold, snowy December, probably ten years ago now. My college finals were written; all essays handed in. I was off for winter vacation, first to visit a friend in another town, then to spend the holidays with my parents.
The only problem was: I didn’t even have money to get myself to the train station.
So, I took myself, with my flyaway hair and thrice-worn jeans, and prepared to tromp through the snow to the closest store-a drugstore-to get cash and munchies for the trip. From there, I would catch a cab to the train station. Did I mention that I’d been lolling about the house for most of the day and had about an hour in which to do all of this if I hoped to catch the train? It seems like a simple enough thing, but felt to me like an act of desperation. For someone who can’t see, walking in the snow can be treacherous, and I, for one, often avoid it. Many, many things could go wrong in those four blocks. There was nothing to be done about it now though. People were expecting me.
Out into the damp chill I went-those cities on lakes are to be avoided at all costs---with my black backpack crammed full of stuff, my green overnight bag over one arm, and my white cane in the other hand.
That really was a long four blocks. Snow covered all the familiar tactile landmarks, and my small body was off-balance from the loads of stuff I was carrying. As I walked, I cursed my weak muscles and poor planning. Slipping and sliding, occasionally wobbling to-and-fro, and sweating profusely in spite of the cold, I inexplicably thought about alligator clips and 6th grade science class, about how I couldn’t open them without help. I cursed the pizza I’d ordered the night before There had been plenty of food in the house, but I just had to have that pizza, which literally ate up my last bit of cash. Not smart at all, and here I was foolishly doing something I had no business doing. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I’d get there in one piece. It doesn’t seem like much now, but at the time every block that fell behind me felt like a victory, a small one though, as anything could happen on the next block.
I consoled myself with the notion that college students are supposed to be doing this sort of irresponsible thing. (Yeah right!) And I’m nothing if not resourceful, I thought, as I bounced away from another snow bank and checked to make sure I was still on the sidewalk, not in the middle of the street.
Huffing and puffing, I felt a glimmer of hope as I approached, then turned, the last corner-and quickly swerved around a slippery pile of snow. The store wasn’t much further. Just had to veer off the sidewalk right about here and find the ramp inside.
“Do you have money to go into that store?”
My head, bowed with exertion, popped up. The woman’s voice was friendly enough, but the question was strange.
“Uh, yes, yes!” I muttered, hastily, slowly moving forward and waiting for the reassuring plink, plink of nylon cane tip on metal door frame or glass window pane to let me know I’d reached the entrance.
“Well,” she continued: “I have twenty dollars if you need twenty dollars?”
Twenty dollars, I wondered. Why would I need twenty dollars!
Ah, there’s the door. As quickly as I could, given the awkwardness of my load, I darted in, murmuring a baffled “no, no, I’m fine” back over my shoulder.
About five minutes later, Cheesies and extra money in hand, I stood waiting for a taxi. I was warming from the chill air and cooling from my exertion. …and then it hit me: “That lady thought I was homeless!” I thought, barely suppressing a gasp. I couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to me right away. Why else would she offer me money? I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
The rest of the trip passed without incident, though I do believe that was also the day a drunken seat-mate on the train declared, with great fervor, that I was her Christmas Angel. Is it possible to be both a homeless lady and a celestial being, both housed in the body of a harried college student?
This was my entry for therealljidol This week's topic was "travelling travesty". My travelling life has been full of little---perhaps not travesties--but definitely weirdnesses.
I lifted my face to the woman, hoping my look conveyed my confusion.
After walking what felt like the longest four blocks in my life, I just wanted to get inside, where it was warm and dry, and, I hoped, free of snow banks. What was this weirdness about whether I had money? I looked like I was walking into the store, didn’t I? Don’t people usually take money with them into stores?
On the other hand, how did she know I was coming to the store to get money?
Yes, this day was definitely morphing from exasperating to weird.
It was a cold, snowy December, probably ten years ago now. My college finals were written; all essays handed in. I was off for winter vacation, first to visit a friend in another town, then to spend the holidays with my parents.
The only problem was: I didn’t even have money to get myself to the train station.
So, I took myself, with my flyaway hair and thrice-worn jeans, and prepared to tromp through the snow to the closest store-a drugstore-to get cash and munchies for the trip. From there, I would catch a cab to the train station. Did I mention that I’d been lolling about the house for most of the day and had about an hour in which to do all of this if I hoped to catch the train? It seems like a simple enough thing, but felt to me like an act of desperation. For someone who can’t see, walking in the snow can be treacherous, and I, for one, often avoid it. Many, many things could go wrong in those four blocks. There was nothing to be done about it now though. People were expecting me.
Out into the damp chill I went-those cities on lakes are to be avoided at all costs---with my black backpack crammed full of stuff, my green overnight bag over one arm, and my white cane in the other hand.
That really was a long four blocks. Snow covered all the familiar tactile landmarks, and my small body was off-balance from the loads of stuff I was carrying. As I walked, I cursed my weak muscles and poor planning. Slipping and sliding, occasionally wobbling to-and-fro, and sweating profusely in spite of the cold, I inexplicably thought about alligator clips and 6th grade science class, about how I couldn’t open them without help. I cursed the pizza I’d ordered the night before There had been plenty of food in the house, but I just had to have that pizza, which literally ate up my last bit of cash. Not smart at all, and here I was foolishly doing something I had no business doing. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I’d get there in one piece. It doesn’t seem like much now, but at the time every block that fell behind me felt like a victory, a small one though, as anything could happen on the next block.
I consoled myself with the notion that college students are supposed to be doing this sort of irresponsible thing. (Yeah right!) And I’m nothing if not resourceful, I thought, as I bounced away from another snow bank and checked to make sure I was still on the sidewalk, not in the middle of the street.
Huffing and puffing, I felt a glimmer of hope as I approached, then turned, the last corner-and quickly swerved around a slippery pile of snow. The store wasn’t much further. Just had to veer off the sidewalk right about here and find the ramp inside.
“Do you have money to go into that store?”
My head, bowed with exertion, popped up. The woman’s voice was friendly enough, but the question was strange.
“Uh, yes, yes!” I muttered, hastily, slowly moving forward and waiting for the reassuring plink, plink of nylon cane tip on metal door frame or glass window pane to let me know I’d reached the entrance.
“Well,” she continued: “I have twenty dollars if you need twenty dollars?”
Twenty dollars, I wondered. Why would I need twenty dollars!
Ah, there’s the door. As quickly as I could, given the awkwardness of my load, I darted in, murmuring a baffled “no, no, I’m fine” back over my shoulder.
About five minutes later, Cheesies and extra money in hand, I stood waiting for a taxi. I was warming from the chill air and cooling from my exertion. …and then it hit me: “That lady thought I was homeless!” I thought, barely suppressing a gasp. I couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to me right away. Why else would she offer me money? I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
The rest of the trip passed without incident, though I do believe that was also the day a drunken seat-mate on the train declared, with great fervor, that I was her Christmas Angel. Is it possible to be both a homeless lady and a celestial being, both housed in the body of a harried college student?
This was my entry for therealljidol This week's topic was "travelling travesty". My travelling life has been full of little---perhaps not travesties--but definitely weirdnesses.