Public Transit

A couple of days ago, S, T, and I went to Manhattan to one of the Little Airplane research sessions for a new Disney show they have called Jungle Junction.

On the way there we took a bus.  Normally one can get on a bus and stand in one place, letting go of the bar of stability for a few seconds at a time.  Well, not this time.  It was okay for me to put my card in, but in that 3 second or less spot of time S and T and run back to the middle of the bus.  Of course, when I was done running my card through the bus driver pressed on the gas like he was starting the Indy 500.  

In that moment of flying through the air and finding and grasping the bar of stability (the one over the passengers) that I attempted to secure my children.  But the bus was pretty semi-packed and they were at least five feet ahead of me. Thankfully, people had grabbed S and T's hands and were holding them in place until I could get there. 

It was a little scary because it felt like a standing version of the popular theme park ride "Mouse Trap" (or something like that).  You know the one where you get off feeling like you may  need to visit the chiropractor for the next six months or like the Scarecrow on The Wizard Of Oz.  You know the part:

Scarecrow: First they [referring to the Flying Monkeys] took my legs off and they threw them over there! Then they took my chest out and they threw it over there!
Tin Woodsman: Well, that's you all over!

I felt so thankful for those dear people that were making sure my children were not flying across the bus.  I kept trying to make my way back to help with T, but every time I tried to move on the bar the bus would either lurch to a start or screech to a stop.  I was holding on for dear life.  Finally they had a stop where about five people got on and off and I had a moment to grab T and S. A man in the special needs row moved so I could set T down. Gratitude for these people was immense.  

Then an elderly man got on and gave me the frozen look of  "I deserve to be in that row, not your meddling kids."  I did the best I could to ignore the guy--as much as I did want to give him a seat, there was no way I was going to put my kidlets' lives into jeopardy so he could sit. We got off a couple of stops later.

Then on the way back from the session, S was trying so hard to fall asleep.  We had to switch trains, and she was practically sleep walking as we got on.  Then a kind man moved so she could sit.  On her way there the train lurched into movement and so did S, over the feet of three other passenger--losing her shoes in the tumult.

She let out an Oscar-winning type of cry of mortal pain, everyone in the car stared at us.  I was sure someone was going to offer to call the train operator for an ambulance, but they held their ground as I scooped her up, stepped as quickly as I could to the open spot and tried to soothe the dear, tired soul. She cried for a good 20 seconds until I offered to tell her a story. It was not a great story, but she didn't care. After her sleepiness wore off, I had her rapt attention (and the attention of a few other passengers--which I did not expect.  It was about a potato after all).

One of them even complemented me about it, saying she was considering getting off a stop later so she  could hear the rest--which made me feel great.

When we got off, though we were disheveled and such, we felt happy and ready for the walk home. 

If any of the kind people that went out of their way to help us read this, thank you very much!