I’m walking along East 86th Street where the crosstown bus stops.
There are four young boys waiting, all wet, from a sudden downpour. If they didn’t have private school insignias stitched on their navy blazers, they could easily pass for urchins up to no good.
Naturally me and my umbrella that seats ten, have to stop.
“Don’t you guys travel with umbrellas?” They stare at me blankly.
“How bout if you come under here till the bus comes?” Still no response.
As I proceed to take charge the smallest one says, “I’m not allowed to talk to strangers.”
“That’s a very good rule so, just don’t to talk to me, but you’re gonna drown if you don’t get under this umbrella.”
Like a little band of brothers dressed by Brooks Brothers, they dive under, dripping all over me.
Finally after a very long five minutes, the bus pulls up. As the door open and passengers embark, I can feel these boys gunning their engines.
“Let them off,” I say, like I work for the city, “and don’t slip, take your time.”
The bus driver, clearly knowing these lads, hollers over his shoulder, “What do ya say boys to this nice lady?”
Like a soggy chorus they bellow, “Thank you.”
I smile at Mr. Julio Hernandez, nice and dry at the wheel.
SB
Great story…you were quite the hero😊
Very cavalier of you.
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They looked like little wet cadets. What could I do George but mother them. I’m like the cat who nurses the bunny. All for a good cause. 🙂
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I’m sure you would have done the same 🙂
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This made me smile Susannah. You are always at the right place at the right time for a good story! ~Elle
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Imagine 4 little Andrews 🙂
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😂
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I don’t carry a brolly either. I was a cyclist and motorcyclist for years, so I’m well used to being wet. Also, I find that when it’s raining, it’s often windy too, and a brolly just becomes another encumbrance. Further, I stand 6′-4″ tall: I have to keep a lookout for others with umbrellas, seeking to impale my eyes on their spines.
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Love the word impale. Don’t ask me why. George Washington was as tall as you as was Jefferson and Anthony Bourdain. That’s quite tall. I know when I lived in London way back when, no one carried an umbrella and it rained 10 times a day. People would duck into pubs for a quick pint till the shower stopped. As for me, I was just a struggling model who had a coke. 🙂
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Ah yes: ducking into the pub: such a chore and imposition. We Brits endure such hardships. 😉
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LOL…see, it’s the reason you don’t carry that brolly…so you can dive into a pub. Ah, your secret’s out now. 🙂
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Really? You think I need an excuse? You think it was ever a secret?
When you get here, I’ll organise a pub crawl.
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Oh my…can’t wait. 🙂
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Kindness reigns again .
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In what respect? Did someone shoot Hillary while I was sleeping. Why else would you be so happy???
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I’m always happy ! I just have a point of view . Selling out our nation and the security of our people to our enemies for ones own greed does bother me a bit though . But in my own sphere I’m extremely thankful for many things . I got loads of blessings ❤️🎶🎶🎶 . And more to come !
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That’s the right attitude. Me too. How bout that, something we agree on.
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Susannah, as I read your lovely piece I kept picturing a mother duck with her ducklings tucked under her wings. The driver sounds like a very special person, too. Perhaps their encounter with you will alter their attitude toward their elders, at least slightly.
During a fire drill last week I told my class of high schoolers, “Huddle around the teacher to keep her warm and you’ll all get brownie points.” They laughed and then did it! I’m afraid my motive for a gathering wasn’t as unselfish as yours, ha ha!
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Must be great being a teacher. I have such respect for your profession Skinny. To think you’re improving such young minds, such a big thing in my eyes.
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Another rainy day in NYC!
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🙂
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Sweet!
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Thanks Hal 🙂
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Skinny summed it up for me. You’re like a mother duck, Susannah. :O)
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Quack Quack…in more ways than one. 🙂
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Boys will do that … start rushing line line backers.
These two lines – priceless: “I’m not allowed to talk to strangers.”
“That’s a very good rule so, just don’t to talk to me,”
Great story …
Isadora 😎
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They were well-heeled little urchins sopping wet. You could just see them as men. Aye
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😎
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PS Still have that wonderful poem of yours. 🙂
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😎
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