Granny Savage Gets Lost in the Ghetto

Do you have a car, to like, DRIVE places? I used to and took it for granted. Now that I am broke and moved to the city, I figure I can use public transportation. But being a savage, I have to learn how to use it.

I had two appointments yesterday: dentist and covid shot (I’m 70.) Three hours between; should be no problem. The dentist broke a tooth and seemed to be panicky about that. Got out of the dentist and called Uber. “Use Uber,” my kids said, “they’ll be there in a few minutes.” Thirty five minutes later and after nine attempts, (No cars available, it said) I realized I’m stuck in the city far from home and have to cancel the shot.

But that huge highway out front is Tennessee and it hits Monroe somewhere and I live just four blocks north of that intersection. I can walk. In fact, I’ve been getting in shape to walk these hills for a month and a half. I wonder how far it is? I can’t see the little streets on my phone map, but I’ll just head north until I see something familiar.

I walked. The neighborhood looked sketchier and sketchier…OK I’m lost in the ghetto. Keep walking. A woman and her crazy-looking adult son saw me. “Do you need help?” she asked. Oh hell no, I’ve seen those crime shows. “Do you want me to call you a cab?” she asked. Eureka, there’s an idea. How do you call a cab?

I went up on the porch and crazy son thoughtfully got me a bottle of water. Mom called the cab. She told me her life story, which I always find interesting. She was now off drugs, had been assaulted by a homeless man down the street, and had a surgical scar that looked like she’d had an autopsy. Son had spent his entire youth in a mental institution, but wasn’t violent. Any more.

When the cab came and took me home, I saw that it was too far to walk-even if I hadn’t been going the wrong way. But wasn’t it nice of them to help me? I’m an artist so I told her I wanted to send her a print to thank her. What did she like? David Bowie. Sorry don’t have any of those, what else? Lightning. I do have Lightning Over Sarasota Bay. I shall send her a print.

Back here they told me I was in Frenchtown and lucky to be O.K. My daughter said apparently I can’t die unless a meteor comes through the bedroom window and hits me. There’s a fine line between cocky and confident, aye?

But wasn’t it nice of those folks to help me? You just never know about people.

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