Sidewalk Q&A

I am lurking at the coffee shop across the street from the coffee shop where the interview is to take place.

With the mini heat wave again, our sidewalk is full of children who have no yards and need to run up and down and scream and whatnot. Past my house repeatedly while I am working. But anyway, not the point. I put on my first day of school dress. Literally, this is the dress I wore the first day of teaching this past year; it feels like more time has elapsed since then. I noticed the dress is rather loose in places where it fit better before. In fact, if I had not grabbed this dress from the closet at the last minute, I would pick a different one out of the attic summer stash. The bodice, um, gapes. I brought a cardigan but I'm not wearing it until the last minute cos it is so damn hot.

Anyway, children running up and down my side of the street, so I decide to walk to the bus stop on the other side of the street rather than walk through them. About one block up, there is yet another queue of children, milling and writhing. Suddenly (because everything in my vision happens suddenly) a big ol' yinzer walks in front of me and asks, "Are you blind?"

"Yep; mostly." This has become my pat answer to anyone who asks this question. I have a white cane. What more do you need to know?

"Well, I thought you should know you are about to walk into a crowd of --"

"I know." I thought he was gonna say children. Because there were children moving in brownian motion throughout and beyond my entire frame of reference.

"--bees."

"BEES?!" That came out rather shrill.

"Yeah, a whole crowd of 'em. They're about to tape off the road and everything. Some little old lady just got attacked --"

"OMG, thank you so much. Bees? Really? BEES?"

"Do you need help crossing?"

"No I'm good crossing. You said a crowd of BEES?"

"Yep, bees. I can help you cross to the other side if you want."

"Nope, I'm good. OMG. Bees. I have this totally paralyzing bee phobia. I mean it's really bad. I'm on my way to this job interview and--"

"Okay, you're all clear to cross now." He walks across with me but does not touch me. "Oh, I like your artwork." He means my tattoos. I'm wearing this summer dress that is feeling very very gappy indeed.

"Thank you. And thanks for telling me about the bees. That would have sucked."

I saw the old lady a few blocks down the road, shaking it off in the driveway of an auto body shop. Her posture looked defeated. But she had an old lady cardigan and long polyester pants on. I have so much lovely flesh showing for those little bastards to sting me until I'm unconscious.

I have always been mistrustful of the kindness of strangers. But thank you, large man in Steelers t-shirt with sleeves ripped off.

Damn this latte is good. I hate to throw it away now. Sigh. If it wasn't for coffee shops I would have no place to bees.