Three Strange Things Strangers Have Said To Me Lately

1) As I pushed my cart down a supermarket aisle, I felt a sneeze coming on. Since both my hands were busy pushing the cart, I simply turned my head and quietly sneezed into my shoulder. A woman standing 10 feet away from me yelled out, “Ugh that’s disgusting! Look at her, she didn’t even cover her face when she sneezed! You people are gross!”

2) As I moved my 10 lb bookbag from the seat next to me to make room for a fellow passenger on the T, a lady next to me snarled, “Finally.” I looked at her and said, “Sorry?”, and she said “No, I’m not sorry. Are you?”

3) As I backed out of a one-way Dunkin Donuts parking lot that I had accidentally turned into, a man drove past me and yelled, “It’s one-way, you fucking bitch!”

Yep, sure feels great being a Muslim in the U S of A.

Today on the T

On the Green line platform at North Station, a lady walked up to a young blind boy with a guide dog, and greeted him. When the two shook hands, the boy said cheerfully, "It's nice to see you again."

That made me sad.

After 11 days of stuffing myself with meat and carbs at home, I'm now back in Boston. Feeling ok, sort of quiet.

Had an interesting encounter today, though. I was coming back home after attending a graduate student reception at Emerson, but because the Red Line decided to act very Green-Line-like, I missed my commuter rail train out of Porter Square (damn commuter rail). Had no option but to call Sarwar, and ask him to come pick me up.

As I waited for him, I settled down on the stoop outside Porter Square station, listened to Landon Pigg on my iPod, and enjoyed the setting sun and slightly chilly wind of a perfect spring day. It was quite a relaxing and calming wait, I must admit.

Anyway, after about 20 minutes, Sarwar called and asked me to come stand by Mass Ave since he'd be there in a few minutes. So I got up and started walking towards the street, but then I was stopped by a man. I think he was Native American; he was wearing a purple sweatshirt, had his silver hair tied in a pony-tail and carried a beat-up old guitar. I had noticed him earlier sitting a way away from me, strumming songs for passers-by, but I hadn't heard any of his music since I was listening to my iPod.

Anyway, this man passed me by and he said, "Oh, you got up! I was just coming over to you to sing you a song. You looked so sad and lonely, I thought I'd cheer you up."

Isn't that the sweetest thing? I was so touched. I thanked him with a stupid grin and told him that I had to leave now but I'd hopefully hear his song some other time. He asked me for the time and then, as I left, said "God bless you". My heart swelled with happiness at this random act of kindness.

It's days like these that make the harder ones a little bit easier.

In other news, it's official: the American Idol finale is a David vs. David encounter. Of course, I'm voting for David Cook - I cast two votes for him by phone last night - and here's hoping that other people also overlook Archuleta's 'treacly' brand of ballad-singing and instead vote for the far-more-mature and uber-cool rocker dude.

Also, I finally pick up my glasses tomorrow in Harvard Square. Yes, these are the ones that got the least votes on the blog poll :P (speaking of which, check out the new poll and vote!)

Hmm.. since I have to be there at 12PM for an eye-exam (they're dilating my pupils before giving me my glasses.. eek), thinking about spending an afternoon out like last time.. burgers at Bartley's, ice cream at Baskin Robbins, and reading in the Square (assuming I can use my eyes?). Yup, fun times. Yay for unemployment.

A strange sense of philanthropy...

As I walked to the station to take my train home from work, my eyes met that of a young man who was part of a street crew - you know, the people who try to sign you up for things: register to vote, join anti-bush rally, destroy the NRA. Normally, when I see these people out of the corner of my eye, I fixedly stare at my feet and quickly walk by so that I can avoid all contact and the chance of getting signed up for stuff I don't need or want (the tactic also helps keep beggars and weirdos at bay). But today, my eyes naturally gravitated towards this young man with an eyebrow piercing, a mop of golden hair and a innocent bewildered look on his face. And the guilt I feel each time for passing by these street crews - who are just trying to make a difference, get the word out, or plain old make a living - got the best of me. I stopped to chat.

His name was Steven, and he was signing people up for Children International, one of those programs where you can sponsor a child for $20 a month. I have always meant to become involved in this kind of a charity - I'm a big supporter of all charities that benefit children/check out www.darkness2light.org - and heard the guy out. He wasn't very convincing - unsurprsingly, since he (by his own admission) had never visited a third world country and never seen poverty first hand. I shared the fact that I come from a country where 80% of the population is below the poverty line and that I was well acquainted with children who ate out of a trashcan and lived in filth and disease. "Probably more so than you", I thought to myself. He didn't have anything new to say but I still stayed to listen. He didn't have anything to give me to take away and read, so I said I'd check out the website (www.children.org) but he said he'd prefer it if I signed up with a street crew member 'cos.. uh.. umm.. it's just better that way. Read: that's how I get my commission.

Now at this point I got annoyed. I understand that standing in the middle of a road in cold weather, trying to sell something that no one wants to buy is a crappy job. I'd put it right below telemarketing. But come on - if you're doing something charitable, or volunteering for a good cause, put some energy into it and be happy if you even got someone to go the website. Awareness is everything, even if someone didn't sign up with you. Maybe I'm being too harsh - the guy was probably tired and wanted to get a burger and veg in front of a reality show. But still, if you're trying to sell philanthropy, act inspired and passionate.

So I promised I'd check the website, and was on my way.

Then, when I got home, I had another incident. A little old black lady with a cane was hovering around the intercome-buzzer area in the foyer. While I am normally very wary of little old ladies (you never know what's under those shawls), I stopped to talk to her. The woman was looking for her son, who she hadn't heard from in "a long time" and who didn't show up for work with his sister today. The last contact address he gave her was 711 W. Belmont, my building. Only thing was, the apartment number he gave her was 11L. Now, this building has 5 floors and each apartment has a numerical assignment: 101, 102.... etc on the first floor, 201, 202.... etc on the second floor, and so on. I knew there was no 11L but still for her sake, I checked for it. I looked on the buzzer list for her, but no 11L existed and her son's last name wasn't on the buzzer list. Strangely, his last name was "Tollfree" - no kidding, that's how she spelled it. I told her I had been living here for a year and never seen the name anywhere.

Understandably, the woman was upset. I tried to be kind and helpful, offered to call her a cab, but she said her husband was outside. And after one last attempt to find her son's name on the buzzer list, she said "Thank you, sweetheart" and left. I said "Good luck" to her back, but I think she was too sad to hear it.

I don't know if I feel sorry for her and frustrated with a society where children don't speak to their parents, or suspicious that she was either up to no good and that she was mentally unstable. (I'm sorry to say I had my eyes on her the whole time, and I felt bad about it but you can never be too careful. Plus, who has a name like Tollfree??) Well, it was a strange experience and I hope she finds her son. She looked quite worried.

So I must be in a good mood today. I did two, somewhat out of character, charitable things. Strange.