I really love going into the city. Philadelphia has a certain charm about it. I've been to New York and Boston and DC, all of which I adore, but I am really excited to be here in the city of brotherly love. I have a long but very scenic commute to my internship, part of which includes an 8 block stretch of walking through the city that I really enjoy twice a day. We'll see how I feel about it come winter, but right now, it's fantastic. I love watching the people: businessmen and bums, moms and madmen, jesus freaks and jews. There are also lots of students.
It's such a cacophony of people, and there I am in the middle of it, taking in the sights and sounds. I hope I never stop feeling like a tourist in this city, hungry for the next adventure: being serenaded by a bagpiper, finding a great consignment shop, or marveling at Independence Hall and how what happened there has impacted my life.
Of course there are also the germs. After I was a missionary, I contracted a bit of germophobia. And cities are dirty. I also hate getting sick. If anyone reading this can relate, you might enjoy the following story.
Yesterday after getting dropped off at the Subway station, fumbling with my cash (cities require a lot of cash...like, the actual green stuff) and getting my subway tokens, I ventured onto the train. I sat down, priding myself on finding one of the solo seats, allowing a commute free of the awkwardness that accompanies sittingveryclose to the stranger next to you and not talking.
The train rumbled forward as I settled down...and then I heard it. A light sniffle. I glanced at the woman across from me, hunched forward and wearing a mismatched array of woven textiles. Something a cross between a homeless woman and a professor of women's liberal studies. Clutched in her clammy hand was a damp tissue. Then a cough. Oh no, I thought to myself, she's siiiick. This is bad...this is very, very bad. Now now Megan, don't judge, she could just have allergies...really. bad. allergies. The woman pulls out a travel tin of Vick's vapor rub and swipes at her nose. Then she blows it. A tentative rub at her forehead, I push myself against the seat trying to get as far away from the woman as possible without looking rude. We stop at the next subway station and a new crowd of people angle on. A woman passes by her and stands in the aisle. The ill woman looks up and, pushing her glasses back on, says "You cad sid here, bud I havd a cold." I am incensed. She IS sick, I think to myself, what is she doing on the train?? There are signs CLEARLY STATING that if you are ill that you should stay home. This is uncalled for. All I can do at this point is pray that her and her germs get off soon. Five stops later she exits and I exhale. I stare at her empty seat and watch as some hopeless traveler fills it. The girl who is clearly too old for a koala backpack has no idea the harms that could befall her if her immune system hasn't been properly exercised until now. May she be a seasoned city dweller. Live on fellow comrade, live on.
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