PriorBlog

Usually when I am waiting for the bus after work all of the other people at the bus stop are employees of the collection agency that works in the same office park that I do. It’s kind of like being a temp, in that I am recognized as not belonging to the group, and yet, at the same time I am part of the group. There is also the issue of race, as I am the only honkey.

Last night for whatever reason, there was only one of the collection agency people there. This guy is a little older than the others. I noticed a few weeks back that his pants don’t fit right. They are worn out floods. They probably fit when he bought them eight years ago, but with time, now all they do is point out that he could use a new pair of shoes as well. In this regard, the two of us are exactly alike.

Had the rest of the crew been there, they would have been wearing baggy pants, untied basketball shoes, oversized jackets with fur-lined hoods, et cetera, et cetera. It occurred to me, that like myself, this man was somewhat on the outside as well. Although not as outside as myself, we could relate to one another. As the bus was making its way towards us last night he said to me, “Hey you work in the same office park as we do, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“You know, we have a van that takes us to the bus stop. I’ve seen you walking along those train tracks. Why don’t you take the van with us? It’s a lot safer.”

As fan(s) of PriorBlog will recall, it was a big step for me, a few months back, when I began to walk along the tracks to work. If you were to walk along roads from the bus stop to my work you would basically go straight and then take a 90-degree turn and go straight again. When the collection agency people came, they decided to take a different route. Instead of going along my perpendicular way, they went along an angle, which is only possible if you travel along railroad tracks. Prior to their arrival, I considered this too dangerous a route to take. Even after they came, and began heading towards the tracks in the morning, I assumed for the longest time that they were heading to a spot where their van was waiting for them. Eventually, I realized that they were taking the tracks. At that point, I began taking the tracks too.

I like the tracks for a number of reasons. One, it’s shorter. Two, it’s trespassing. Three, it’s adventurous. Four, it’s quiet and hidden, it’s a secret way. Who doesn’t like a secret passage way? And, best of all, to get from the tracks to the parking lot of the office park, you have to descend from the tracks through the brush to magically emerge on the margin of the parking lot. It’s sort of like the way the baseball players show up in Field of Dreams.

I mentioned to the guy that I wouldn’t feel right taking the van, in part to protect my walks along the tracks, but also because I don’t work for them. The van is basically a moving logo for their company. It’s not like you’re hopping in somebody’s carpool. He said, “Don’t worry about that. Tell them Wild Bill sent you. That’s me.” How awkward would that be? Getting in someone’s van, someone who I don’t know, because “Wild Bill” sent me? What if they look at me like I’m crazy, or mention some sort of liability because of my being in the van. Or what if somebody from their company can’t get on, because I am taking their spot? At the same time, I wouldn’t want to disappoint Wild Bill, who was nice enough to offer the service in the interest of my safety. He also said I seemed like a nice guy. Would declining the ride be interpreted as my saying “I don’t want to ride in a van with a bunch of minorities?”

It’s time to get back on the bike.