Never a Dull Moment
July 19, 2011 § 2 Comments
I left work yesterday with no thoughts other than the usual 5 o’clock happiness. Normally, I stroll to my car with one or two of the guys from the office but yesterday I was by myself. Since I hate to walk alone on Public Square and the surrounding streets, I was moving at a rather brisk pace.
The windows of Boscovs flashed by me and the sun shone down. There were no men lurking around the benches like there sometimes are and that made me happy. Just the other day, some pig had said “I’d like to tap that!” as I walked by him. I’d almost Maced his eyeballs but then heroically resisted the urge. But that was the other day and today no one was standing around waiting to enrage me with their linguistic crudities.
I walked past Mulligans and, as I came around the edge of the building, a man on a bicycle was speeding straight at me.
“Aih!” I screeched and jumped to the side.
“Ah!” He yelled in unison with me and slammed on his brakes. The tires squealed on the pavement as the front wheel locked.
As if it was in slow motion, I watched the man take a nose-dive over his handlebars. I felt like I was frozen in time, unable to stop this horrible accident from occurring. He landed in a thump on the sidewalk and time started again with a lurch.
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I exclaimed as I helped him to his feet. He brushed himself off and pulled his bike back upright.
“It’s okay, I just hit the wrong brakes. I didn’t want to hit you.”
“Are you okay?” I felt helpless as I rushed around picking up the things he’d dropped in the fall. I handed him his bicycle lock and he nodded.
“I’m fine, honestly.”
“I’m sorry.” I said again pathetically. “Um. Have a nice day.”
I fled the scene, hopelessly embarrassed.