I'm beginning to think
these shoes are cursed.
See, I got them (in the right size, finally!) Wednesday night and wore them to work yesterday, a day which, as we all know, did not exactly go swimmingly.
And I put said shoes on again this morning and left the house right on time... only to discover that my train, which had been running ten minutes late all week, had picked today to be three minutes early and was pulling into the station as I rounded the corner nearly a quarter-mile and two staircases away. I did that split-second mental math to answer the question "should I run for the train?" (Mental math that public transit users are used to: How far away is it? Is there a chance at all that I can make it? When is the next train? How late will I be if I catch that one? Can I run in these shoes? One doesn't just run indiscriminately, because there's nothing more depressing than running for your train and missing it anyway, left to collapse on the platform. If you decide not to run for it, then at least you can pretend it was a choice.) Anyway, my mental math answer was "maybe," and thus I discovered that these shoes are
great for sprinting, though Philadelphia's air remains crap for same.
I
also discovered that this bra is not so great for sprinting, but perhaps that got me onto the train -- there was no-one left on the platform but a single conductor who was getting back on the train, and they were about to take off, when I rounded the top of the stairs shouting "please wait!" Wearing my low-cut not-entirely-opaque tailored white and purple striped shirt and a kind of fallen down bra. And they did wait.
And I am proud of myself, because
not only did I make the train, I made the train in front of three women who were running (admittedly, in heels) from twenty feet and two staircases away. (Since I hit the platform just as they were about to take off, those women managed to get on to the train, too, because they got to the platform in the time it took me to get onto the train.)
Anyway! The train wasn't late, and didn't make any inexplicable stops, a great improvement over most of the week... until we get to suburban station, where we wait for twenty minutes. And then I head over to the trolley platform at 30th Street... only it's cordoned off. All five trolley routes were diverted to 40th Street Station. So it's onto the El (which is at that point underground) and to 40th Street and then, slowly, to work.
See, there are five trolley routes. They don't merge until they go underground, on a normal day. When they're all five diverted to the above-ground tracks, that means
five trolley routes, each with a trolley running
every four minutes during commute hours, sharing two-lane city streets with commute traffic. And that means huge, huge lines of trolleys backed up for blocks whenever they need to turn, because cars are blocking the intersection or running the red. And
all five routes have to make an unprotected left turn in
university city, home of lo these many pedestrians and drivers and nobody lets anyone in here, so. (This also means that there are huge, huge lines and crowds on the Lucy Loop shuttles around campus, and that it takes ten minutes to drive a single block down Spruce, and that Crazy Philadelphia Drivers are making illegal u-turns and driving the wrong way through alleys and driving whole streets in reverse to get out of the bad traffic. Whee.)
Oh, and the why and wherefore of all of this, which I didn't get from any of the Official SEPTA representatives in their shiny vests, but from the most useful tool in the SEPTA information network (i.e., stand by the doorway and gossip with the driver; making comments about something you just saw one of those aforementioned Crazy Philadelphia Drivers do is a good way to start this conversation). Once I had internet access, I confirmed it:
there was a transformer fire downtown. At two am. And it's still not cleaned up. Of course.Also, today we expect an estimate on the body+suspension damage of the car. Which, I may remind you, we have had for little more than six weeks. (Fortunately, the insurance folks are sending a guy to our mechanic in person today, to make arrangements for payment, and they are in fact waiving the deductible, so we don't have to deal with it at all. I point out that this news came after I took my shoes off yesterday.)
I dunno, though, somehow the whole thing was so ridiculous that I'm almost cheery about it. It's making me want an icon that says "no, Vir, the universe is an evil place, but it least it has a sense of humor about the whole thing."
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darthrami, on the other hand, is concerned:
eruthros: [like I said last night] THESE SHOES ARE CURSED.
darthrami: oh noes
darthrami: what happened?
eruthros:
[provides link]darthrami: I TOLD you this would happen
eruthros: THE WORLD WILL EXPLODE IF I WEAR THESE SHOES TOMORROW.
darthrami: for god's sake, don't do it!
I am currently accepting bids. Dear SEPTA: for a modest sum, I promise to never wear these shoes during commute hours again.
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