As I've mentioned, many of my coworkers seem to think I'm a little strange because I ride the bus by choice. One coworker offered to start picking me up on her way to work. On another occasion, I watched a woman pass me, turn around, park, and get out of her car. She walked over to me just to offer a ride home. Some refer to me as the Green Lady, because apparently riding the bus makes me an environmentalist. Imagine how shocked some were when they found out that I don't recycle. Being a new employee at this school, many of the initial conversations I have had with people have focused on offering me other ways to get to school other than taking the bus. All of these people have been quite friendly. In truth, I often feel bad about constantly turning people down. I know that people feel more connected to others when they can help them out. Still, I don't want everyone to think I am in need of help. Hopefully, I will be able to build relationships based on things outside of transportation, but I guess that takes time. Slowly people have come to accept me for who I am, but recently, one coworker took it too far.
In addition to riding the bus, I also like to get off one stop early. At first this was because the crosswalk closest to my school is specialized for the school. It's not at a stoplight, but when the pedestrian button is pushed, lights flash and cars are supposed to stop. That doesn't mean they do stop. So, unless I'm running late, I get off a half mile early and use a crosswalk by a stoplight. The crosswalk isn't the most pedestrian-friendly either. If I don't hit the pedestrian button before the light turns red, I don't get the walk signal and I have to wait for another round of light changes. I start many mornings by leaping off the bus and racing to the pedestrian crosswalk in hopes of making it to the button before the light begins to change. If the light is yellow, I pat myself on the back for such perfect timing. This morning routine may seem silly, but I love my race to the pedestrian button and I have found that my short walk to school each morning is a great way to wake up before stepping into my workday.
As I ran to the pedestrian button one morning, I noticed a car getting ready to make a right turn. I have to keep an eye on these cars, because they sometimes decide it is not worth their trouble to look right and end up driving where I am about to walk. I made eye contact with the driver and noticed it was one of my coworkers. She pulled over and rolled down the window. I figured this would be another time where I could give a simple no-thank-you and be on my merry way. No such luck. “Get-in-get-in-get-in!” she exclaimed, managing to turn six words into one utterance. No thank you. I'm okay. “Get-in-get-in-get-in!” she repeated. I'm really fine. Really. “Get-in-get-in-get-in!” By this time, I feared that she wouldn't give up until she got side-swiped by a passing car, so I complied and took a seat in the car. We made small talk and she was actually quite pleasant for a kidnapper. So I did my best to enjoy the short car ride instead of longing to be back outside for my morning walk. Then I became aware of the worst part of my kidnapping experience. She must have been trained in acts of torture because there, seeping out of the radio speakers, was morning radio. Not only that, but it was Elvis Duran on morning radio. I moved thousand of miles from my home town to escape many of the distresses of Long Island, and one of those things was the overrated, overplayed Elvis Duran and the Z morning zoo on Z100. There are so many other things I would have welcomed to follow me to Phoenix. Family members, friends, bagels, pizza, the ocean, and the teaching pay scale are just a few things that could have joined me here. Instead, I sat in a car being subjected to Phoenix's equivalent of Z100. Thankfully, the car ride lasted no more than five minutes before I was free to be away from talk radio and into the fresh air. I hope never to be kidnapped again.
