The Bus

I take the bus down Second Avenue every morning to work….today it was raining and packed with people.  I got on, an older woman sat next to me.  The window was fogged – she asked what block we were on.  There began our conversation – her talking, me nodding.

She’s 62.
Her husband worked in construction.
The Second Ave subway construction has been going on for years – 1 horn blast means get ready, 2 blasts means get out of the way, 3 blasts means all is ok? (I think that’s what she said.)
There’s tickets for everything – for this new bus system, when she went to the deli the other day….everywhere there’s tickets….she has a bag full of them.
She’s been disabled since 1977.
She grew up on 92nd St. between 1st and 2nd, and moved away for 10 or 11 years, then moved back when her dad passed away.
She worked in petty cash.
If she gave someone 25 cents for a cup of coffee, they had to sign for it as she was responsible for all the money.
She was going to the dentist for this (pointing to her mouth with no teeth.)
She knew everything there was to know about the highest end typewriters at work – but doesn’t and can’t work on a computer.
When you call somewhere and you can’t get an answer, ask to speak the manager, someone in charge.  Or get their name at least.
Her husband told her to take a cab, but she couldn’t find one, it was raining.
When she worked, it was with the Ministry of something or other.
She hasn’t worn the ankle boot in years but thought she should today.
One leg is shorter than the other – and they can give her an ankle replacement.
There was mention of a hip replacement as well.
The weather in NY isn’t as extreme as it was when she grew up – they used to make snow forts in front of her building.
She used the word indignant.

I didn’t get her name.