Last Saturday I was crutching through Central Park and a man on a bench said as I passed, "I like you. You're hot."
And then a few days ago another guy said to me as I was crutching down Broadway, "Even with a limp, you're sexy."
Now, granted, they were both homeless, and the second guy was brown paper baggin' it, but hey. We established a while ago, I think, that we take it where we can get it. We are not above being appreciated by drunk homeless men. Yet.
Said appreciation of being appreciated by drunk men, coupled with today's turn of events, makes me concerned that I have a dubious future ahead of me as the crazy mean old grandma who chases the neighborhood kids with a broom and has too many cats. Perhaps it was just that it was very hot today, but I suddenly decided it was time to start telling people off in a loud voice. How I know it was a loud voice is that I could hear myself over my ipod. When a woman tried to push onto the subway before I was able to get off (and in my defense, I would like to say, I have a crutch) I said in a loud voice to the air in front of me, "Let the passengers off first!"
And then walking home, trying to negotiate a large tourist group crossing the street who were staring upwards, I said, again very loudly, and again to the air straight in front of me, "Look in the direction you are walking!"
I can't believe I'm admitting this. It's very embarrassing. I'm supposed to be a yoga teacher and, you know, one with the universe, and so on. Not crazy mean (hot) old grandma with a broom.
At least I'm aware that my behavior was not, shall we say, optimal? (She says in a small voice)
There was a woman walking down the subway stairs with two crutches and my heart went out to her. We talked a little bit and I told her she'd be onto one crutch soon. She had a lot more grace than I did today.
To quote my teacher - the journey back to the center is that much sweeter once you've been to the periphery. I think we now all know what the periphery looks like...