Tag Archives: accident

Mad Dash

Public train transportation is the way to travel into the city if you want to ditch the traffic, read a book or fall asleep behind the wheel. Train commuting is a type of home away from home. The MBTA is not the way to travel if you desire consistently being on time, don’t like crowds or require privacy.

The 6:42 a.m. train was a unique scenario as we boarded the now 7:02 a.m. dark passenger cars in Shirley, MA. There was no battery power, lights or air conditioning. The passengers grumbled as they boarded their unreliable steel pool cars. One man in our boarding line read the riot act to the conductor. Said man was riding the rails to catch a 9:15 flight out of Logan. I think half of us were chuckling at the psychotic traveler; he wouldn’t have made that flight on a good day. He was already cutting it way too close for morning Uber traffic, and airport security checks, even if he did arrive in Boston by 8:00. The conductor told him the best bet was to wait for the next train. There were no guarantees and the crew was already hoping this engine would make it to North Station.

Reassured on every level, I made my way to the top of the double-decker.

We pulled into the next station braking with a jolt. Nobody on the train understood what that had to do with no battery. The Ayer passengers embarked complaining about both the lack of power and the man that ran in front of the train. Evidently, someone had crossed the tracks to get to their platform. When the man realized he dropped something, he ran back in front of the oncoming train to pick it up. Everyone waiting on the platform thought they were going to witness a fatal accident. As they boarded, the train was still dark but their trauma was visible. The situation added more time before we were underway again.

The next stop is right off the interstate, and the largest pick up. About 200 people boarded our moving cave and we were on our slow way again without incident.

We arrived at the next depot with incident. Passengers boarded and then the train stayed on the platform. We weren’t moving again. Everyone hedged their bets to either disembark and reboard the next train or wait it out and hope the situation improved. The experienced group I was sitting with knew better, got off the snail and lined up for the following train that would be pulling in any minute. About 300 people were back on the platform and headed to the crossover when the headlight of the the savior train appeared.

The crowd had words for each other as people tried to hurry in front of the next. Everyone jumbled together trying not to be last. The mayhem was railroad “musical chairs”, knowing not everyone would get a seat.

The rest of the ride was uneventful. We were already an hour behind schedule and so many people were standing up, the cars looked more like a subway. The situation could not possibly get worse but the earlier commuters remained visibly on edge.

This second train would arrive on time, so the last few standing passengers weren’t otherwise effected. They had lights and air conditioning. The commuters just outside the city had it made, they just didn’t know it. One woman, standing next to my seat, couldn’t understand the frenzy.

She remained positive, “The railroad does get us there.”

“Yes. This is still better than driving in traffic.” another Cambridge passenger agreed.

“Right? A few less seats does not make a difference.” declared the first.

A dangerous remark from someone that had just boarded in Belmont. I was already on the 2nd train, after the first arrived 20 minutes late, and was an hour behind schedule after offloading and reboarding with 300+ of my most intimate friends.

The morning commute included a bigger crowd, no privacy and I was late. Yes, I had avoided traffic and read a large part of my book. But no, I couldn’t fall asleep, even though it was so much like home. There had been a lot of excitement with the lights off.

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Scream of the crime

Getting up early to make our bed is a routine that I enjoy as much as the cats. I tease them with a smoothed ripple that I drift into the pillows or, like today, a disappearing hand under the afghan. The chase is on every morning as I humor them with play.

Today our black cat, Brother, was particularly determined to catch a wave or an appendage. My hands moved fast as I giggled, watching him try to catch up with my cat-like reflexes. He pawed at me to no avail. I was in charge until I felt a sharp dagger enter my body. I pulled my hand up off the comforter and stopped laughing. My lungs screamed seeing Brother hanging by a finger. Our predicament was similar to a fisherman with a fish hook in his hand but I still had the animal attached. I felt a claw behind my fingernail.

I was scared and so was Brother. A freaked out cat is not something you want dangling from your finger. The decibel of my scream increased as I put my arm on the bed. The movement seemed to untangle us and he sprinted from the room.

Now unhinged, my finger bled instantly spewing forth a red trail to the bathroom. My terror was not over as I put my hand under cold water. I watched our playtime drain away into a crimson waterfall.

My heart was losing blood and also felt horrible for scaring the shit out of our cat. I did my best to apply a bandage and remake the bed. I enjoyed our playtime but wasn’t humored by the first aid treatment.

Relaxation Response

The house was quiet as we settled into the start of summer on Memorial Day weekend.  My daughter was lifeguarding at the town pool and my husband was perusing a new novel on the deck.  Both were spending their time in a thoughtful and careful way.  I decided to do the same.

My guardianship wasn’t in need and my next book had yet to be started.  So, I watched out for myself and opened a new bottle of polish instead.  I decided to paint my naked toes a bold shade of red. The color matched my  sandals and I looked forward to looking like a put together grown up.

I finished one foot and reached for more color.  My hand hit the bottle, just like a fugitive Harrison Ford hit the stream.  As Tommy Lee Jones would have said, “the nail polish did a Peter-Pan right off the dam(n table)!”

All I could do was watch a spray of fiercely fabulous red hit my kitchen floor.  I fiercely tried to stop the tumbling bottle before it covered my fabulous laminate. It rolled under a chair and the pets quickly backed away.  They ran from the poison – my venomous response,  not the scarlet contents.

I wiped the liquid with a dry towel but ultimately needed nail polish remover to clean up the red mess.  My spa time resorted to a household chore laquered with frustration. I don’t have a coordinated pedicure but I do have a stripped floor to memoralize the event.

Almost taken out

I literally had my life in my hands. Both hands were on the steering wheel but luckily had enough instinct to save me. I pulled into the local Asian restaurant and quickly paused at the entrance to decide if I should go straight and park in the back or turn left and park in front of the door.

My hands held tight to the wheel and decided not to turn.  The driver of a parked vehicle looked left but not toward the entrance and backed toward me. He had no idea I was there.

Sonofabitch!

I stopped altogether and decided to stay there until the driver realized he almost took me out along with his crab rangoon. I thought about what expression, or gesture, to give him once he attempted to exit alongside me.

He realigned his wheels, changed gears and looked up.

He moved toward my bitchy face just as I recognized his face.

I was suddenly in a much worse position than him. One of, if not THE, nicest guys in town. Genuine and sweet not just to me but our girls. Welcoming and interested not just in my husband but our entire family.

He recognized me right away and acknowledged my vehicle in a way only he could. He flashed his infectious smile and yelled out, “Hello darlin’!”

The stress of the day rolled off as I rolled my window further down to appropriately respond, “Hi sweetie!” I moved forward to now get out of his way.

“I’m so sorry. You know I love you.”  I heard him yelling an apology as his vehicle moved toward the exit.

I drove to the rear of the lot screaming,”I love you too!”

It was a scream – literally and figuratively. We had the instincts to save each other from embarrassment before we died of it.  I’ll always remember Kevin trying to take me out the day I went to get take out.

Funny Bone

This is how I think while watching others come and go as I sit in the hospital waiting room –

*   To learn you have to wear a cast for four months – tough break!

*   Educate yourself about the impact of a wisdom tooth extraction…

*   An inspiring  life motto for a blood type – B positive.

*   To know it only took one – “Oh, baby!” to get pregnant.

*   I love the expression – “pins and needles”;  I’m a seamstress.

*   My uncle is needy but I didn’t want him to have knee surgery!

*   It’s depressing to know my sister is bi-polar.

*   I get tired of people asking me if I have M.S.

*   There is nothing artistic about a blood draw.

*   The wheels to his car were speeding and now he’s in a wheel chair.

 

Daily Prompt: Talking in Your Sleep

My husband tells me about the times I talk in my sleep. He’ll wake me up and tell me I sounded like a car and I explain that I was racing with Mario Andretti. I have no interest in NASCAR. He’ll be tired in the morning and tell me that I kept lifting up the covers and whistling. Interesting concept but I was baking and putting muffins in the oven with Betty Crocker. I don’t even cook. My favorite was the night after we watched The Princess Bride. He said I insisted I was Inigo Montoya and told him to prepare to die. I didn’t even know he was the six-fingered man.