...Life On One Leg (Part 2): Chicks & Bus Drivers Still The Worst

I wrote a little bit (well, a lot, honestly) last week on my torn left calf, and  the response that people in New York City have to someone on crutches trying to make their way through some sort of minimalistic daily routine.  I just thought, rather than write about Anthony Weiner's wiener, I'd update my (already extensive) thoughts, perceptions, and theories a week later.

..and this, two weeks later, is "healing".  Sigh...

First and foremost: The whole women/men thing has changed one iota, in fact, my perception of men as supportive and thoughtful brothers and women as self-involved, unfeeling cads has only been reinforced this week.  Women have let doors slam in my face (while looking me in the eye, albeit blankly), have rushed ahead of me to grab subway seats (while men have offered theirs to me), and once again have ran up the block to steal my cabs.  Much more detail here, as mentioned above.  I'm disillusioned, to be honest.  I've always loved women and shared little of by biological  bretheren's casual disdain towards them.  However, as I mentioned to a shocked crowd the other day, I'm beginning to understand the maxim "Bro's before ho's" much better than I ever did.

Incidentally, most guys I asked about this behavior often agreed with this explanation (without hearing it from me first) I offered last week:

Are men sympathetic to another guy, who may be "just like them" in many respects - working, athletic, wearing a boot that can be perceived as the result of a sports-related injury? 

When I asked women the explanation for their behavior, I got a lot of laughs (occasionally nervous ones) and a similar explanation virtually every time:  "Women are such bitches".

As I said, I am sorely disillusioned.

That being said, I thought I would comment on the response of some of the "professions" I interact with on a daily basis to a man hobbling through the mean streets on one leg:

Doorman:  The best.  Running over to offer help, offering special elevators, and in the case of my home office making sure they knew what floor I worked on so I could be rescued in an emergency.

Cabbies: Pretty good.  Will occasionally even get out of their cabs to open the door.  One guy shooed away a French couple who tried to take my cab; at least they were properly chagrined.

Food Service: Also pretty good.  I am doing take-out most days, but I am constantly being offered extra large bags, help with the door, and in the one or two occasions I went fast-food, employees told me to sit down and had my food brought to my table. Note here, though: New York much better than New Jersey, where the checker at the local Wawa asked me if I wanted a bag for my breakfast.  Really?

Bus drivers: By far the worst.  My stories are legion.  Commuting into the city in the morning, getting picked up on the side of a busy Jersey highway, not once in eight days did a driver wait for me to take my seat before zooming off at merge speed into traffic, usually sending me lurching down the aisle or into some poor passenger's lap, crutches and all.  My trip home has been a bit more civilized, as I wait on line for a bus in the Port Authority and board in an orderly fashion. However, I can't forget the day I was second on line for a bus (with a pregnant women in front of me), and the bus pulled up a few minutes early.  Rather than open his doors, he sat inside and read the paper (fully aware of our presence three feet away), while the pregnant women and I, already waiting for 15-20 minutes, practically leaned on each other for support until the driver yawned, stretched, and finally open the doors some additional 5-7 minutes later.

You should be proud, New Jersey Transit.  Your drivers suck balls, up and down.  No wonder we private citizens loath your pathetic, fat union asses.

Anyway, hopefully no more than another week on crutches, then I should be back on three feet, if not two.  How will "life with a cane" work out?  Should be interesting....