Thursday, September 21, 2017
Today I am grateful for Cayman. Boy it’s been a whirlwind visit with my friend from Wisconsin. He and Himself hit it off like old buddies and we had a blast. I have enough belly-laughs stored up for months. I’ve missed connecting with everyone, but I was too exhausted each night to breath, not to mention write. But my head has been writing all week so these next few will be easy to put down.
So who is Cayman? Wait for it. You know I’m going to set the scene first. Didn’t miss me that much, did you? Lol.
My friend from Wisconsin, a friend from here, Himself and I took the train in to Philly to ride the Big Bus and go to the Eastern State Penitentiary. As visitors. . .this time at least. Who knows if I’ll be forced to commit a felony in order to secure adequate health care in the future?
It was a great day, full of laughter and stories. It was also hot. And humid. Mama don’t do hot and humid without bitching voraciously. FYI – Mama is me. And the Big Bus (hop-on; hop-off) was a Big Bust. Live and learn. “They come every 20 minutes,” the ad said. Yeah, right. Unless there is traffic, or construction, or the bus driver has to stop for coffee, or take a piss, or scratch his ass, or someone else’s ass.
We waited outside the penitentiary for over 40 minutes. In the hot sun. And 900% humidity. No place to sit. It was cruel. Brutal. So hot we decided to sit on the lower level when the bloody bus finally came because this one, at least, had air conditioning. Most of them didn’t. “Oh, it’s broken.” Really? Break this! My trigger finger came in handy. You need that appendage in the city, even if it’s just popping up under your purse or behind your back. It helps.
I don’t remember what else we did that day, but it doesn’t matter. The point is that by the time we got to the train to come home, much later, everyone who was in the city was hot, sticky and exhausted. Everyone!!! Not just us. Hot, sticky and exhausted translates to pushy. I was sick of crowds. Everyone in the crowd was sick of crowds. We popped on the train through a back door and found seats easily. At the door in the front of the car there was a kerfuffle.
A conductor, Cayman, was holding the shoving mass at the door, taking no excuses for them to push past him, making them wait. Philadelphian commuters don’t like to wait. But they complied. He insisted they make a path, wedging them aside, so that a tiny, very frail, very old blind lady with a service dog could board. He situated her in a front seat, allowing her to take her time placing her bag where she could find it and making sure the dog and all dog parts were out of the aisle so they wouldn’t be stepped on. It was awesome to watch. Nurturing. Caring. Kind. Gentle.
When she was all set, he let the masses board and continued his business like it was just any other day. Except he frequently checked on the lady with the dog to be sure she was okay. Yes, I had to tell him how impressed I was with him and yes he said I could use his picture. Septa should be very proud of this young man. I know I am and I’m not even his mama. We need more Cayman’s in this world. BING! Heartprint!