We were standing shoe-horned into a crowded Max train. On a cold, slushy rainy day the train was late for some unknown reason and everybody was cold, damp and a bit on edge as the train greeted weary shoppers. As we cattle marched onto the the musty damp train there stood in the corner a black man with a bike taking up much needed space on the train, but it was his space and he was stark crazy angry that others could be or may be pissed at him for taking up such space. Nobody on the train seemed to care all that much as the train left the station. Suddenly he started screaming at another passenger to stop laughing at him. I had lost sight of my son Max at this time as the train was really packed. I yelled out "Hey Max" and he responded "over here". This made me feel somewhat better but left me wondering what he thought of all the commotion. What exactly was going through his mind? Later on the man with the bike yelled vehemently at another passenger to get the f*** out of his face. The tension and discomfort on the train was as deep as the clouds were gray today.
Finally the train departed at the next stop and the crazed passenger with a bike announced that he is getting off a the Hollywood Station. That did not surprise me as we were also getting at that station. As we hastily departed I found Max and we headed through the slush and chaos on the station floor. I passed a German shepherd attached to a woman in her mid fifties clutching a cane and dark glasses on a day that had become suddenly darker. It gets dark early in Portland and the steps of snow and ice had become treacherous for the pedestrian of sorts. Surprisingly, I put two and two together rather quickly and came to the conclusion that the woman attached to the German Shepard was blind and she quickly confirmed that by asking the darkness "Am I headed toward the station steps". My reply was "yes Mame you are".
Max suddenly piped in. "There is ice right in front of you, be careful". We guided her up the steps and down another set of steps and she asked "where do I get on the 77 bus"? Max, the proud owner of a transit pass pointed her in the right direction. He literally pointed. And she headed right toward the 77 station. It was this split second where I kind of believed, actually really believed that we are meant to cross paths. We rally are.
The lady and her dog got on at station 77 headed in the wrong direction. The bus driver on that bus put her and the dog on the right bus. Something tells me he his work day was a bit happier doing that.
The crazy guy on the bike on the train, I have no idea where he disappeared to. He would have enjoyed meeting the lady and her dog.
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