This morning as I started my commute on the NJ Transit, on the seat opposite mine sat a woman with a stroller. Now, if you have been paying attention to the news, you would appreciate that even as my commute should span no more than twenty-three minutes to New York, with the track work and just plain-ole delays for no reason, I had lots of time to kill. Because today I am rocking one of those bucket hats with a medium-sized brim, I was able to mind all of her business without being caught (too often J ).
As I stated, she had a stroller; and an expensive looking one at that. Why I initially found her interesting was, she seemed a bit old to have a new-born (I gauged the age of a new-born as a result of the size of the stroller’s basket). However, I grant I may have been mistaken about her age as well, she was white and it is well known that some Caucasians do not age well (and certainly not as well as some of us!). Because of this middle-aged business, it evoked thoughts of Janet (“Ms. Jackson if you’re nasty!) and I wondered how she and her beautiful bundle were faring. Yes, I digressed.
The stroller looked expensive; it truly had a lot of bells and whistles. There was a beautiful white parasol attached to it on one end to provide shade and, on the opposite side of that there was a clip-on fan. That made me pause a bit as I remember thinking, “what if that were to somehow get unhooked… it could injure; especially if turned on at the time); but, to each his own. At the front end of the stroller, there was a holey-thing that had some sort of plastic hanging out; didn’t waste too much time on that. Of course there was the standard rack below to carry additional crap and another basket of sorts by the handle for even more crap. The stroller was one of those fancy-smancy three-wheeled jogger types.
I checked out the lady next. I already have this theory that older parents go a tad bit overboard with their little ones; so I decided she added credence to that concept. Before any of you new older parents come at me, please take a look at just how over-everything you are – protective, compensating, neurotic, tired – everything. But, this post is not about you and truth be known, as over-doing it as yall are, I respect the heck out of you and frankly, at times I wish I could still do that thing. So rock on with your bad selves!! Now that we’re friends again, back to this lady. She had broad weight-builder shoulders and very well-developed arms; the kind we get from either structured exercises or hoisting our young. She looked fit… for her age.
As we got closer to New York and everyone started gathering their possessions together in preparation to disembark, I saw movement from the carriage. I admit to being quite excited to seeing the baby (love me some babies!), but also I wanted to neatly wrap up this little saga I developed to keep myself entertained. Because of all the netting and hoopla of the carriage, what I saw were shadows at best; but something seemed a tad ‘off’. The head seemed quite small and I could swear as it moved there were two things at the side of it. Pointy things. I no longer pretended to not be looking… I was staring.
In that expensive stroller with parasol, fan racks, baskets and three wheels, was a damned puppy! I shit you fucking not! A damned dog! Ms. Thing calmly got up, zipped the entire basket compartment together (told yall it was fancy!) and wheeled her ‘baby’ out of the train! Then it hit me – that “holey-thing that had some sort of plastic hanging out” was a damn holder for plastic bags to pick up poop! Okay…
The moral of this entire story? As human beings, we are conditioned to not see things/people in the places or situations we do not expect it/them to be.
I guess this is where, if I were prone to colloquialism, slang or lingo I would say, “Stay woke” yall.