PATH OF TERROR

Last night, I began what was my ultra-relaxing entrance to the weekend. I got home at about 10:15 after a an hour-and-a-half of girly-lolly-gagging around Target (you know the routine: browsing through the collection of purses, hairclips, underwear, makeup.) After I put away my newly purchased shampoos, vitamins, and flannel sheets (I only have 2 pairs of sheets now, and 1 of them I HATE), I washed my face with Burt's Bees Tomato soap, gave my facial a facial mask, then washed my face again with Aveeno scrub, toned, moisturized. After that, I proceeded to polish my toe-nails the color of "rainy-day red." This is fire-engine, big red candy-like button, red. I like it. After I was done primping, I wrote for a while, and then went to sleep, feeling absolutely cozy.

This morning, my alarm went off at 6:30 AM, and I woke up feeling so refreshingly awake, I began to wonder if I should maybe spend 2 hours every night spoiling myself. (Not a bad idea, really...) I showered, dressed, and made my way out the door with plenty of time to catch the 110 South Central Flyer to work.

As I walked down the street toward the busstop, I noticed that up ahead, at the intersection of Stassney and South 1st, there was a cavalcade of emergency vehicles. "Oh shit," I said to myself out loud, without even realizing I was saying it. It's just one of those scenes you look at, and it only takes one second to instinctively understand it's BAD. Only one other lady was at the bus stop. When I got there, I had about 3 or 4 minutes until the bus pulled up. I wasn't really keeping time. Just watching for the bus. And wondering how we were going to plow through the scene of the accident.

Soon, a Capital Metro Supervisor mini-van pulled up at the stop and turned on its blinkers. The lady at the busstop and I looked at each other for a second, trying to figure out what was going on. The lady tried to open the sliding door, but it was locked--the driver seemed to be absorbed in her walkie-talkie. I asked the bus stop lady if she thought this was our ride, and she said she thought so because of the accident up ahead. I waved to the driver, trying to get her attention.

She couldn't seem to figure out how to roll down the window, so she just unlocked the door, and I asked her if this was our ride for the 110. She said it was, so bus stop lady and I got into the van. There were stacks of paper everywhere. Obviously, this Supervisor van wasn't regularly transporting customers. I had to gather up the paper and hold it on my lap to make room for the other lady. It felt like riding in my Mom's van.

Of course, I found this whole situation rather strange. The 110 bus picks up nearly two dozen people during the course of its route. Two dozen people weren't going to fit in this minivan. Not with all that paper mess, anyway. Well, there must have been other rescue vans because the other lady and I were the only two on that van for the whole route. For sure, it was a luxurious ride--no stops, comfortable seats, and free. As we crossed the intersection of Stassney and South 1st, we didn't have much trouble. But I did catch a glimpse of one of the cars in the accident.

Totaled. Front end smashed in, windshield completely shattered. The kind of thing you see in those horror videos in driver's ed. It's always so creepy to see an accident right after it's happened. What if it had been me, just minutes before, driving my car through that intersection? The ride to work was mostly uneventful. The Supervisor took calls the whole time about bus drivers stuck in traffic jams, bus drivers who were getting weird lights on their dashboard, bus drivers who had just let a potential murderer on board. Really.

One bus driver intercoms from his route near Highland Mall. It's not a message for the Supervisor, but rather for some othr Cap Metro headquarters, perhaps security--but we can hear it. The driver says there had been this man looking all frantic at the bus stop, jumping up and down, running back and forth. The man got on the bus, and so did this older lady. The older lady reported to the bus driver that crazy man had been talking about wanting to stab someone. The bus driver asked if someone should be sent out to check out the situation. The Cap Metro voice responded, "We'll look into it."

I got to my destination about 20 minutes early, so I went to JP Java's for a breakfast taco and a cappucino. I sat in one of the big, cushy leather armchairs and ate calmly. (Usually, I'm eating breakfast on the run.) As I walked the block toward the violin shop, a man is stopped on the side of the street, and he's getting out of the car, asking, "Excuse me miss, can you tell me where this is?" He's apparently delivering something, but I recognize the destination, and I gave him directions on how to get there. In the meantime, his car starts rolling down the hill toward the intersection. He runs down the street and hits the parking break just before it rolls through the light. I'm pretty sure he got my directions, so I keep walking to work, just in case something might blow up next. Or a piano falls on my head.



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