I woke this morning shocked to see downpours on the 25th of January. This is Canada is it not? No less, Ottawa? The same Ottawa that saw record amounts of snowfall last Feb/March?
6:56am ~ Rain? In February? Seriously?
6:56am ~ …Yes, I round my months too.
Insanity.
It’s our week sans-carpool, so on foot I head down to the bus stop with Braden (10), en route to school. It was wet, but balmy for January. Armed with an umbrella, I was content to kick off my week with a stroll, bus and a pile of to-do’s at the office.
About halfway to the bus stop, we’re waiting at a light to cross the road and a stream of vehicles rush by… I suppose a couple of them were hugging the curb, thrashing through puddles and proceeded to project buckets of dirty road water all over us.
Is it really that much to ask for folks to mind their surroundings a bit? Are the morning commuters so caffeine-deprived that they’re not able to make notice of their periphery? You don’t think for a moment that the possibility of nearby pedestrians warrants perhaps shifting more to the centre of one’s lane? Is that too much to ask, or am I being totally unreasonable?
Anyhow, notwithstanding the wetness, I didn’t want to let these potentially-maliscious-maybe-inconsiderate-probably-oblivious motorists rain on my parade the way they so lovingly did on my khakis, so we soldiered on umbrellas in hand, without a care in the world.
…Until a gust of wind rushed at me, mistaking me for Marry Poppins or something. It was pretty fierce…or so it seemed. Well, fierce enouch to turn my impenetrable fortress of dryness into a synthetic bowl on a stick. Umbrella turned inside out, trying to fix it to no avail, I finally pitched it aside.
Now I’m really getting wet. Wet-with-a-capital-(expletive deleted).
8:01am ~ Walking to the bus stop, splashed by oncoming motorist. Seconds later, gust of wind destroys my umbrella. Now soaked. Monday already, eh?
A day in the life of a pedestrian.
And still through it all, I thoroughly enjoy that life of a pedestrian. Make no mistake there are plenty of moments where I fantasize of being more mobile…but there’s this strange romantic attraction I have to public transportation.
I’ve always been a pedestrian. Growing up, I was the youngest of my crew having the September birthday. They all had their liscences and cars… they were my chauffeurs! Yeah, I’m sure they secretly hated me for it. But between that, and my house being the most common destination for events and gatherings, I really was in no rush to get driving for myself. And as an aside - thanks Mom & Dad for that pool table. That single-handedly made me infinitely more “cool” than my personality ever would have let me be, making our place the place to gather 
Once upon a time when I fancied myself a writer, I’d look around the bus/train/airplane and invent my own little backstories for randoms. I’d be jotting down notes feverishly in my little notebook (back in my pre-bberry dark ages) and work on little scenes and dialogues with my little fictionalized transiteers. I’d enjoy it so much, I found myself leaving the house ridiculously early to take the milk-run bus to work so I’d have more time to kill. Sometimes on quiet evening/weekends I’d hop on a bus with no particular destination… Just ’cause.
Maybe I’ve seen one too many-a-movie with little scenes in subway cars, stations, trolleys and the like… but for some odd reason, I enjoy public transportation.
Some days more than other days, of course. And generally speaking, I tend to enjoy it more when I’m dry. Which I certainly wasn’t this morning.
8:53am ~ Haven’t had a soaker this bad since grade school. Adding injury to insult, I slipped in a huge puddle coming out of the school. Going home