It’s May 1st! A brand new month. Exciting month ahead for our family. Hopefully, baby won’t arrive this month as this is the month prior to the expected due date. I take “due date” with a grain of salt as both boys arrived early. May will be filled with lots of anticipation, checklists, doc appointments and hopefully rest, too. During Sunday service, I couldn’t keep the tears from flowing from my jaw down to my clothes as I *still* can’t believe that I get to do this all over again.
On a TOTALLY different note: I relate to Larry David’s character on “Curb Your Enthusiasm” way too much. I recognize that so much of what I sweat is “small stuff” but I had a lightbulb moment last week. I sometimes want to pause on the trifling happenings of life to allow my mind to drift from the actual meaty stuff: adult decisions and responsibilities.
Flashback to last Wednesday at my o.b. appointment. I take the elevator to the 11th floor with just one other person. The man seems restless and preoccupied as he tries to exit the elevator unchivalrously before me, practically clipping me, so in true Larry David fashion, I maneuver my girth so that I can exit before him.
I sit down in the waiting room and look all around at the Upper East side patients and think, “So boojie, mmm. So much privilege up in here. Blech!” (And yes, I know that I am at least partly one of them as much as I try to claim “Other.”) That is when I notice that the man from the elevator is talking to the receptionist and soon, addressing the large waiting room:
“Excuse me. Someone here got a ride from me and did not pay me. Who was it? Who took a ride from me and did not pay me?”
Everyone peered down at their precious phones as if they were Cinderella’s Magic Mirror revealing the future, and ignored him completely. He repeated the announcement:
“Someone here did not pay me after they got a ride from me. Who was it?”
People continued to ignore him. While his announcement made folks uncomfortable, it was not delivered in a scary manner. He was just a brown man trying to get paid for his services, hunting down his boojie customer who stole from him.
I started feeling my emotional buttons getting pushed from this man being completely ignored, even though I knew nothing about the customer and whether she was privileged and wealthy, taking advantage of the cab driver.
I responded loud enough for him and the room to hear: “Sorry, man. I took the subway here so it wasn’t me. Good luck!”
He walked out of our waiting room to the adjoining doctor’s office, presumably to make the same announcement. The man just needed to get paid and I felt for him. I also flashbacked to when customers stole from my parents.
The second he left, one of the phone-staring ignorers, an older White lady, promptly got up out of her seat to tattle to the receptionist, “He didn’t go downstairs. He just went to the next office.” So the receptionist had to act as security to tell him that he must raise up and wait in the lobby, not here in the doctors’ offices.
Just then, a White husband who had his pregnant wife’s feet on his lap the whole time, exclaimed, while still staring at his phone: “What!? Marshawn Lynch…!”
He and his wife were called to be seen by the doctor and I noticed he had on a blazer with elbow patches. I judged some more.
As a post-doctor appointment treat, Kevin and I met for lunch. I told him about how incensed I felt when everyone ignored the cab driver in our boojie waiting room. Kevin said that he, too, would have ignored the guy because he didn’t take no ride from him. Kevin laughed and said, “Maybe you responded because you felt like you had to defend yourself since you always have to explain yourself?”
I explained, “No, I responded because he deserved to be heard by SOMEONE, even though I wasn’t the fare-jacker. And guess what? When I saw the older White lady report him after ignoring him the whole time and then that Elbow Patch exclaiming about Marshawn Lynch?! I got all crazy inside. I wanted to go fight him and say, ‘If Marshawn Lynch drove a cab and asked you boojies if someone made off without paying him, you would totally ignore his ass too if he were a nameless man of color. But because he Marshawn Lynch, you dare to exclaim his name while seated here amongst the pregnants. Man, shut up! Don’t ever utter Marshawn name again, Elbow Patches!”
“And then, I started Googling ‘Marshawn Lynch’ instead of looking up the checklist for what this particular o.b. appointment should entail. I think I just like diversions, the more trifling the better!”
All this to say that everyone has their coping mechanisms. When seated in front of my husband to discuss Adult Decisions, I suddenly had to talk about Marshawn Lynch outburst. When we have to make important decisions, Kevin becomes more logical and focused and can’t be bothered with the trifling. I subconsciously seek out tangents and treasure troves of trifling to take a breather from the adult ish. What is your funky way of coping with adult life?