Two days ago, I was biking back home from the marina nearby my house. As I was crossing the street, I saw a large Escalade inch its way around the corner –bike versus machine, I thought idly. I remember being amused for a split-second before I realized that the Escalade didn't see me coming. Suddenly the battle between the old and new wasn't so funny. It was almost pathetic—my bike suffered a grueling defeat. The Escalade wasn't even moving that fast!
I asked the driver to put his monster of a car in reverse so that I could pull the mangled carcass of my bike out. The car stopped off to the side.
"Hi, sir," I said, "You know, the pedestrian has the right of way on a walk sign." I kept my cool. Mostly because I was still in shock.
He said he knew, and that he was sincerely sorry. He asked me if I was okay, and what could he possibly do? Very decent guy, I thought.
"Just write down your information. Name and number should be fine."
He rummaged around and couldn't find a pen/paper. I didn't have anything on my person either - not even my cell phone. Finally, I asked him to call my cell phone and leave a message on it.
I started lugging my bike up a hill I have to par on the way home. I desperately wished I had my cell phone to call my mom – I was already pretty tired, and the cruel summer sun beat down relentlessly as I walked and person after person exclaimed at the state of my bike.
“Yes, it was a car,” I told them.
I cursed technology the whole time – if we hadn’t built cars, and boats and airplanes we’d be much better off. It’s true that we wouldn’t be able to do half the things we do, but we wouldn’t have expected to do those things either. Wouldn’t society be better off if we all rode our bikes everywhere? With the rising gas prices, I’m sure it would be a more economical thing to do…obesity might go down, roads would be exponentially safer, and we wouldn’t have high expectations of people.
I imagined a utopian world ruled by primitive technology, low expectations and physical zeniths and thought what a wonderful world…
After about an hour of carrying my bike with the mantra, “Sanjana, your muscles will be bigger than your face. Keep going,” playing repeatedly through my head, and rejecting desperate plots of tackling people and snatching their cell phones, I finally reached a public library. I knew my mom would be worried by now – I’d been out for three hours without a call.
I went in and called my mom – she was furious, livid. She was already circling the routes she knew I took to get to the marina looking for me – her anger had reached a boiling point. What, I asked her, was there to be angry about?!
“Sanjana. Why didn’t you carry your cell phone? I’ve told you a billion times, take your cell phone with you…”
High expectations…I’m telling you, we’d all be better off if we were less connected.
I called the Escalade driver from my cell phone when I got home.
“Hi. This is…the bike girl.” I’m really eloquent sometimes…
“Yes. Sorry. I’ll take care of any expenses for your bike.”
The next day my mom and I drove over to an area around where he lives (it was pretty close by). We dealt with all the details, after which he cordially told me that I could keep his number, and that he already had mine so he would know who was calling. He said that if I ever wanted any tickets to a baseball game at Shea Stadium, to let him know…
“Oh, do you work there?” my mom asked.
He said, yes, that it was his profession. He played for the Mets. (I would tell you who, but not online…)
At this point, I proceeded to go absolutely berserk (in my head)—I was in even more of a state of shock than when my bike was crushed. He was so kind and polite about everything—I knew my brother would get a kick out of it all since he is madly fanatic about anything that has to do with sports.
On the way home, I texted my brother who was out of town. He called me right away.
“Sanj. Stop sending me incoherent text messages.” I was really excited and couldn’t press the buttons quite right…
“Guess what?! Remember when mom told you about my bike yesterday? Well, guess who was in the car.”
I told him – he almost couldn’t believe it. After he corrected my pronunciation of his name, and we hung up, I decided to text the famous Mets player.
Like I said, I was absolutely star struck. I send him exactly two insane messages. In the first one, I told him that I couldn’t believe it, and that if I’d have known who he was, I wouldn’t have accepted any money from him. In the second one, I effectively said that I realize that he is high profile, and that I’d keep his information on the d/l. Thinking back on it now, I realize that technology should be kept away from my hands in moments of hysteria.
What, you may wonder, is the conclusion? Technology is both a boon and a curse. The fact that cars are dangerous both damaged my bike and put me in contact with a celebrity. My cell phone served as both a convenient medium for conversation, and as something that society has become addicted/too attached to. In about twenty minutes, I’m going to head to Penn Station to meet up with a close friend from
2 comments:
I'm dying to know who it was. Please email me.
I too am dying to know. Please email me as well...
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