Sitting in the office, researching online materials regarding fare transit policy, I notice a slight hint of ozone in the air.
“It’s a hot one.” I think to myself. “The AC has burnt out.”
Danger Mouse, using uncanny echo repeating capabilities says, “Does anyone smell that?”
She jumps up in alarm. Scurrying through the maze, she sets out to find the source, verifying her keen senses against the less acute around her as she goes.
After hearing her query a fourth party, I stood up from my cube like a prairie dog on the watch and yelped, “Yes. I smell it. Yes. I smelt it. I smell it.”
Hearing my own echo, she made eye contact. “You smell it?”
“Yes. I smell it.”
DM calmed down, but only just so. Something was still awry. Determined to find the source, encouraged by the validation of others reacting in kind, she scurried on.
When she returned to me, I said “Sound the alarm.”
“Really?” Still unsure.
“Yes.”
And so she did.
Convinced of our doom, the call was made to evacuate (Mind you, I had no problem encouraging this course of action).
As meetings were disrupted, and projects put on hold, The Rats fled the ship. Though I was not Lead Rat, again, I did have a rolel.
My favourite moment was when I went up to one of the new interns, still working away diligently at his desk, and yelled “YOU’RE GONNA DIE!!!”
He looked me in the eye, nonplussed, and said, “No I’m not.”
For myself, I decided that, with the two hours left in the work day, I would bike to the library and continue my research.
I set off for the East Lake Street Library, not considering the excessive heat. By the time I got to the River Road, I was feeling a bit delirious.
I decided the best course of action, considering this new mental state, would be to skip the library and head straight home via the most shaded route possible, the Seward Neighborhood (talk about prime location for a Bike Boulevard!)
Though the terrain was rough along key byways, it was mostly shaded. I road slowly beneath the trees, hoping to spy a lemonade stand, feeling more and more exhausted.
When I reached the Hexagon, I rolled up to the entrance. Discarding my bike like an old rag, I made a beeline for the bar. Had to wait in line, as a woman literally looked me up and down.
I looked her up and down.
“Yeah. Here.” she said, sassing back as she pulled out a stool for me. “You look like you need a drink!”
“Yes. I do.”
I turned to the bartender. ” Can I get a glass of water. I just biked from Saint Paul.”
“Saint Paul!?” the woman exclaimed. “You’re lucky you’re not dead. It’s like 97* out there!”
My point here: Drink some water. Make sure you have water with you. I’ve biked home many times without needing to hydrate. I’d never done so in such intense heat. I honestly thought I would be fine.
I wasn’t. I was admittedly delirious. Aware enough to recognize my delirium, but not enough to do the right thing about it. I wasn’t thinking clearly.
It never once occurred to me to stop at one of the many gas stations or other businesses along the route and get water.
Heck. I made it to the Seward Neighborhood.There were garden hoses attached to houses. (Yes, being a black man, I run the risk of getting shot dead, but I’m sure if I’d gone to David Peterson’s house, I’d have been fine.)
Biking. Walking. Moving. Drink Water, People.
Secondary point: I did not make it to the library yesterday.
If you have any thoughts you might like to share with me regarding Transit Fare Policy, I am collecting such thoughts at jamezs@tlcminnesota.org.
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