An Ode to Strangers

I have a new commute to work. It’s a prettier road, but busier, and everybody on it is aggressive and cranky. This being the first time in my life I have owned a car, all this cursing and hating of traffic is new to me. It’s come up very suddenly and surprisingly, and I didn’t understand just how hard I was going to have to work to breathe calmly, relax my shoulders, avoid taking it personally, and let it go. I didn’t do that this morning, and as a result my driving got careless and angry. It didn’t get me to work any sooner (in fact, I made the decision to be late, called in, and forced myself to take a lengthy detour, so I would stop using “But I might be late!” as an excuse to speed and be a jackass), and I’ve been spending way more time and energy scrunching up my back and thinking about all the strangers who have pissed me off in the last few days.

And really, that’s so dumb. Letting strangers ruin the rest of my day. People who enter my life for a fraction of a second, and are gone again forever. I have more investment in fictional characters, yet I let strangers make me cranky all day long.

I decided, if I’m going to be focusing on strangers and the tiny ways they enter my life, I may as well think of all the surprising and wonderful strangers, who have done a thing that made me happy all day. So, an Ode to Strangers:

1. To the two old black dudes at the intersection on (street name). When I accidentally turned the wrong way down a one-way on a busy street, pulled up on the curb, and prepared to cry because there was no way in hell I was going to be able to back out and turn around, they called out, “It’s okay, Ms. Frizzy Head! Ms. Frizzy Head Sad Face!” and got out of their car to direct traffic, so I had room to turn around and back out. Thank you, two old black dudes, you were the best.

2. To the two young black dudes at the Spanish restaurant in South (metropolitan area). The night Mr. Flint took me there, instead of buying groceries, or paying our bills, or anything else we needed that he was happy to let me spend my money on, talking up the whole time, “Look, I bought you earrings. I’m buying you dinner. If that’s not good enough for you than I guess nothing is, I guess you’ll leave me anyway because nothing is ever good enough for you.” The two young black dudes came in and sat across the restaurant from us, immediately shooting me a very cool look, which I shot right back. Suddenly it all became clear. I was a beautiful woman very obviously bored with a tiny frail creature who refused to let me taste his rice and prattled on about role-playing and how I looked like a slut in my dress. I rolled my eyes at Flint and batted them at the two of you, who pretended to ignore us. Flint tried to ignore us, too, but did a far worse job of it, getting crankier and crankier, more and more hysterical. And at the end of your meal, the two of you, who had been coolly ignoring us, came right over to our table, bowed, and said very politely, looking directly at Flint, “Just wanted to wish the two of you a fine meal and a fine evening.” Then you two winked at me, tipped an imaginary hat, and left.

3. To the man who called during conference time with conference questions. When you realized I was the one who was entering in registrations, you said, “Oh behalf of humanity, I’d like to apologize for all the people who can’t spell, who can’t write legibly, and who don’t fill out forms correctly. I know you have to follow up with us, and it’s not fair to you to have to help us be grown-ups, but you’re so polite anyway, and that’s just because you’re great.” Thank you, mystery man! I walked around with a big head all day, “Why, yes, I’ll look up that zipcode, why, yes, I’ll call them to ask if that z is a t, no problem at all!”

4. To the little girl who gave me a crayon drawing of a spaceship. I know you were just looking for an excuse to give your babysitter to explain why you had run off, but I appreciated it all the same.

5. To the creepy toothless old white man at (grocery store), who let me ahead of him in line, helped me unload my grocery cart, and asked me if I needed anything else, all BEFORE launching into a long boring old-man-talk about what kind of tomatoes he likes to eat. Thank you, creepy toothless old white man at (grocery store), because you understand the concept of give and take.

6. To the crazy white guy with a diaper on his head in (college town), who, to the best of my knowledge, was trying to hit on me with his schizophrenic skills. He told me he wouldn’t let the aliens abduct me, that he would fight them off, and he would never lie to me about the carpets.

7. To the Puerto Rican guy at the University bus stop. He was cute and trying to hit on me, but I was really not interested and fairly rude. But he took it in stride, made fake heart-stabbing motions, and left me alone. Then when the crazy white man approached, screeching nigger this and nigger that, and began to move too close to me, leering overhead, getting into my space, and trying to force me to look at him before he launched into a bitch this and cunt that, the Puerto Rican guy at the University bus stop stepped between us and began a conversation with the crazy racist sexist white man. “Do you see that flag over there?” he said, pointing at a building. “That’s the Puerto Rican flag. Do you know what it means?” And then he explained to crazy white man, the history of the Puerto Rican flag, while steering him away from me. Thank you, Puerto Rican guy at the University bus stop, for defending me without a moment’s hesitation even though I did not want your flirting.

8. To the black dude on the crosstown bus. Sitting in the back of the bus was an obviously affluent older white couple, whose car had broken down. They whispered back and forth about what an adventure the bus was, and oh my gosh look at that neighborhood, it has all sorts of ETHNIC food! Squeal! Isn’t that quaint? I didn’t know there was so much ethnic food in this city. And then, once all the ethnic people piled onto the bus, they quieted down, huddled close to each other, and wrapped their feet around their bags. Ethnic people, tired, unimpressed by the neighborhood, the novelty of the bus, or the quaintness of not working for a living, sank deeper and deeper into their shells, seeing the white couple cower from them in horror and disgust. The black dude on the crosstown bus got up, stumbled over to them, and said quite politely, “Excuse me, excuse me. Can I ask you a question, perhaps?” They nodded dumbly, and the black dude on the crosstown bus lowered his voice conspiratorially, buddy-buddy. “You’re white, aren’t you?” “Uh, uh, uh,” the white man stuttered. “Um, yes.” The black dude on the Marshall-Lake bus nodded sagely, wagged his finger, and said, “See? I can tell.”

9. To the fat black dude in (college town) who tried to get me to leave my husband. On the night before I left to go get married, I ran out to State Street to pick up something or another. You stopped me on the corner, eyes wide, as if you’d seen a ghost, and told me that I was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen. You begged me to just get a cup of coffee with you, oh please, that’s all, you knew you’d be missing a huge chance in your life if you let a woman like me walk by without even trying. I told you I was getting married in two days, and you paled and touched your wounded heart, before genuinely and fiercely arguing that I ought not be married, that I was too young, I was too beautiful, and nobody could ever treat me as good as I deserved, not even you. That I could have anybody I wanted, and I shouldn’t be tied down, and really, come and get a cup of coffee, don’t worry, I’ll call your husband to explain. I laughed and turned you down, but thank you, fat black dude in (college town). I was not in the tiniest way attracted to you, but you were sweet as pie, and my little anti-marriage angel that the universe threw at me, trying to tell me “OMG NO.”