Sometimes, you have to go looking for ways to help people...

10/23

...and sometimes, a little old lady from Hong Kong just fall right into your lap, figuratively speaking anyway. That would have made a good story even better, but I try not to embellish an awful lot.

Her name was Linda, or at least, that’s the name her English teacher gave her those many years ago. I never did ask her real name; almost got the feeling it didn't matter anymore. She immigrated to the U.S. sometime during the 1970’s, went back home briefly during the 1980’s, and finally returned to the United States to continue the process of assimilation she had eagerly started. Now, the decades have passed, she doesn’t like the pace any more, and she is an, “old woman.” “People are moving every where so quickly.” Things are moving too fast.

Funny how, every so often, a life or two will line up at just the right moment. Earlier in the day I had decided to take a stroll through Woodbridge Park in Studio City, took my time too. If not for that miniature escapade, I wouldn’t have made it to the subway stop at Universal (Studio) City when I did, in time to help two elderly Asian women figure out what subway to get on, wouldn’t have chatted with two more elderly women from Austria and Germany who were on holiday and wondering if I were Swiss because of the Swiss cross they saw on my on my luggage. “I’m not Swiss, but I buy from them,’ I told them. “Ah, it is very expensive.” I thought to myself, “Yeah, that would be true if my Swiss luggage weren’t made in China like every thing else.” Actually though, the luggage is serving me very well right now, so I won’t fault the Swiss for subbing their name and logo out just yet; I liked the price, and that toothpick comes in handy.

When I found Linda, actually, when she found me, I was on my way to wait my turn on the information phone at Union Station to plan my trip back into the city. She asked for help. “Do you know how to get here?” I looked at her address. “No I don’t,” I answered, “but I can at least find it in my Thomas Guide, and we can go from there.” I also mentioned her best bet would probably be the phone, but she had waited so long as it was for the man in front of her to be finished. Anyway, I read the address and had just located the boulevard she needed to travel to when the man hung up the phone. She asked me if I would make the call and elaborated further: “I lost my teeth and they say so much on those things.” I told her no problem. She didn’t realize it yet, but I had already signed a contract with myself mentally which stated I would not leave her side until being quite certain she was on her way to her destination. I spoke with the operator and wrote down everything she said, every directive. I checked it twice with them, thanked them and hung up the phone that had probably been held and spoken into dozens, hundreds, but hopefully not thousands, of people between disinfections. I really need to bring some alcohol wipes with me from here on out. I showed her what I had written down and tore the page out of the notebook to give it to her. We went over the directions, and I found another metro employee to tell us which entrance we needed. “That one, right there,” she told us. Very good; I like short trips. Of course we did have to find the intersection for the bus stop, so I walked her over to the street sign I’d spotted from a distance. “You so nice, so very nice,” she kept saying. I don’t know about that; I think the young and strong have a solemn duty to protect and assist the elderly who need it, or anyone for that matter. Seems like that makes me a little bit old fashioned in this town, but I guess it makes me nice too. We waited at the bus stop, until we discovered the buses we needed were stopping on the other side of the street. Yeah, and about that, never said I was an expert on this public transit thing, I am still learning after all, but if I’d taken a quick peak at the light of the sun, it might have dawned on me. Get it, “dawned,” on me?? Nya, nya, nya! Oh well, more time with a perfectly wonderful stranger. We crossed the street and chose our little waiting area by the bus station, and, literally, we missed another bus even though we were on the correct side of the street. We were, as it were, still on the wrong side of the bench enclosure, such that when her bus pulled up behind the bus in front of it, we didn’t see it until it was taking off like a bat out of hell dreams about. We agreed it might be wise to plant our asses securely in the bench; no missing the next one. We talked a little more about why I came here, where I’m from, where she was from, where she lives now, the typical things people make small talk about I guess. I was compelled to give her my phone number and name on a piece of paper in case she ever needed help again; you never know, I could be around again. I asked her if she wanted my picture for when I’m famous. “I’ve got a bunch of them.” I was shuffling through, deciding which one I wanted to give her, when her bus came, making my choice easier. “Guess it’s this one,” I muttered under my breath, and I handed it to her. I might have been able to ask her more, if things didn’t move along so damn quickly. I will say though, nothing could compare with knowing I arrived there when she needed me because I had taken a little extra time to get back to the station that day.