Husband and I went upstate the weekend after Thanksgiving, a three-hour drive we love to take. On the way, we always pass a lot of churches and church signs, and one of them proclaimed the title message above. I doubt the clergy was referring to the Black Friday shoppers this year, at least not the ones at a certain Walmart on Long Island who trampled a worker to death as he attempted to open the doors to let them in.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been caught in a human stampede, but it’s truly frightening. Up until a recent vacation, I thought this kind of thing only happened at crazy South American soccer games where the crowd went berserk after a big win. But a couple of months ago, we were in Chicago and decided to take the train into the city from the airport after being told it was an easy ride. It turned out the line was under repair, however, and halfway there we all had to get off and go up to the street for a bus.
As Husband and I reached the top of the escalator, dragging our suitcases behind us, we saw that the landing was jammed with passengers with only one door to exit. There was literally no room for the riders coming off the escalator, forget the luggage. We started yelling for the crowd to move — somewhere, anywhere — and when no one did, we just plowed into them. The people behind us plowed into us, and still the escalator kept coming with people and suitcases shooting off. I remember seeing a woman with a stroller in my way and I put my arms straight out in front of me to push her aside so I didn’t land on her baby. Fortunately, no one was injured, but it was bizarre.
This year, we spent Thanksgiving Day with Son and Daughter at the same lovely restaurant I wrote about in Like the Pilgrims Before Us, where we could each order lamb chops or filet mignon or whatever we wanted and Husband could still have his turkey and yams. It was a very terrific dinner during which we also celebrated Daughter’s new position as Head Teacher, and Son’s promotion at work. As almost-vice president Palin would say, there was maybe lots of thanking to be done, you betcha.
Daughter told us a story about an incident on the train coming out to see us that strangely foreshadowed the Walmart disaster. She said the platform was very crowded and there was a woman standing nearby who had rudely pushed her way to the front. When the doors opened, she thrust her body into the passengers attempting to disembark. They were not happy and demonstrated as much. The platform crowd was already disgusted with her for pushing through them, and they joined in the general verbal displeasure. The woman grabbed a seat, ignoring everyone.
As her fellow passengers glowered at the woman, Daughter put on her most warm and professional head-teacher-at-a-school-for-special-needs-children demeanor, and sat down right next to her. “Excuse me,” she said, patiently, “perhaps you’re from out of town so you may not be aware that the practice here is to let the passengers off before boarding the train.”
The woman stuck her face right in Daughter’s and said, “I’M FROM NEW YORK,” which Daughter had already surmised, but was trying to give her a graceful way out. As she continued to mutter non-holiday greetings under her breath, Daughter just smiled blissfully, lost in the refuge of her iPod earbuds. Eventually, the grumbling ceased and the fuming went silent as Daughter rode along contentedly, satisfied that her work there was done. If only the poor Walmart employee had been as lucky.
Daughter’s Featured Fotos offer us a Maybe Kind Of Ladies Theme, don’tcha know
ladies in gas masks
fishing
whaling
getting ready