from a laundromat in the corner of frederick douglas boulevard and 138th street, an old black woman with the stoop like my grandmother limped with a shoddy cane towards our bus.
a korean-looking woman wearing a flashy pair of gold rimmed eyeglasses scampered after her. she brandished a piece of paper at the old woman and appeared to be screaming at her, as well. (an unpaid bill?)
the old woman, wearing only a flimsy pea coat, never looked back at the asian lady and limped even faster toward our bus waiting for the go light.
a group of japanese tourists led by a snappy, young, black woman, wrapped up in a floor length brown rabbit fur coat and waving a glaring neon green umbrella, stopped in their tracks and gawked at the commotion.
the korean (or was it chinese?) lady could not stand the heat and retreated back to her laundromat.
the old lady finally got to where our bus was just in time for the go sign to go off.
our driver, a heavy set latino guy with a severe buzz cut, was about to step on the gas when the old lady banged her cane against the glass door. the driver made some wild gestures at the old lady and, at regular intervals, pointed at the traffic lights in front of us.
the old lady would have none of it and continued to tap her cane wildly against the glass door. an old toothless white guy sitting at the handicap seat finally screamed at the driver to let the old woman in.
after doing more of the same wild gestures, the driver relented and opened the bus door for the old lady.
without waiting for the bus to kneel, the old lady climbed into the bus and then strode toward the middle of the bus without whipping out her fare card.
then the stop sign was on again.
miffed, the driver whipped out his microphone and called the attention of the old lady. oblivious to the announcement overhead, the old lady continued to fidget with her ill fitting hairpiece.
the schoolgirl, in a short plaid skirt and thin hosiery who sat behind the old lady, leaned forward and relayed to the old lady what the driver yelled overhead.
the old lady exclaimed "oh, I am sorry," loud enough for me, who was half-dozing at the end pew, to hear.
clutching her fraying beaded purse, she then got up and limped towards the fare box beside the peeved driver.
as she opened her purse, the driver stepped on the accelerator headlong forcing the old lady to let go of her pocketbook.
the purse landed in the middle of the bus and out came from it a few quarters and pennies and a whole lot (dozens? perhaps, more.) of keys in a startling assortment of shapes and sizes. everybody's attention was keyed in to the puddle of keys on the bus floor.
as the old lady started to kneel to gather the washed out contents of her purse, the edentulous white guy, the inappropriately dressed schoolgirl and I, now fully awake to this excitement, started to pitch in in gathering the keys.
the driver had no recourse but to stop the bus so as not to endanger the old lady and the other key gatherers.
as I got up, after gleaning about five keys from the sticky bus floor, I could see through the front window the empire state building looming on the horizon like some strange keyhole to a place, a secret happy place, that no one in the bus has a key to, especially this strange old lady awash with myriads of keys.