The $35 Day

And to think, my last article was about comedy albums...

It began as a regular Monday. I woke up, exercised, read over my notes and certain passages from my private summer reading list (will post it after the season is over), and got ready for work. I had to catch a bus at the regular stop at the regular time with the regular crowd of people that shifts only slightly from week to week. The terminus also happens to be my stop and I passed by a dollar store to get a few things to go along with my spare lunch. And then I stepped outside to head over to the office for one of my teaching contracts.

And then I heard and saw the glass break.

I knew the building rather well. It is a connected structure in front of a hotel. It is also still empty on the first floor, so I was convinced that it was under construction, and that the glass I could see from the parking lot of the mall was an accident. It was only when I crossed the street and heard the shooting that I realized that I had no idea what was going on.

Okay, that is not completely true. I knew that there must have been something going on.

Several police cars charged up the roads around the pathways and underpass nearby. I heard rumours that there had already been one victim, and that a sniper was still on the roof. And the police officer who yelled at me and others to ''get the fuck out of there'' made it clear that this was serious.

I ran down about three blocks, warning anyone who was on my path that there was a shooter, and that we learned that there was a sniper, at least one dead police officer and another victim. I will never forget the man who yelled at his kids to go inside when one of them proposed heading up to see what was going on. I understood that, especially as an uncle who was grateful that my family was very far away.

Soon, most of the roads were closed, meaning that I would have to hike up to the metro nearby with the hope that the line was not shut down (one stop was completely closed to prevent the shooter from escaping). But I could not leave. I felt that I had a responsibility to let anyone who passed by that there was a reason why the traffic was snarled and so many of us were frozen to the spot. I just stood there and wondered what this meant.

And then I met her.

I won't give her name here, and I know that she may never read this, but she is one of the main reasons why I decided to write this. She was new to the city, trying to get in touch with someone in the hotel where the shooting took place, and her phone was dead. A perfect storm, in its own way, and I was asked for my charger (not too good without an outlet). We went to a local supermarket, trying to plug in beside the can and bottle return machines, and then we received a notification that the shooter might have gotten away. I thought of the school yards and the teachers who were walking with their students nearby. But I also thought of the woman I mentioned.

There was not much else to do, except leave.

We went to the metro, with her realizing that she did not have her purse with her and only a bag with a waterbottle as a comfort. It did not feel like a scam when she asked me to buy a ticket for her to return to her room, and I could at least make my own way home.

It was while we were on the metro that she asked for my number so that she could thank me for the ticket (nothing romantic, folks), and then she seemed on the edge of tears. I kept telling her that things would be okay...even when I was not sure I believed it.

And that's why I'm writing this.

I got home, took a shower, had lunch, informed my boss and family as to why my schedule had changed, and had the most pointless nap I've ever had. It seems so uncomfortable to be reminded of just how normal things can be when you have gone through things like this, and I think that even here, in a country known for its friendly ways, that we will have to consider this as our new normal.

And if you really want the details:

You might also be wondering about the title of this piece. I was going to be paid that much per hour for teaching English, and I began to wonder very seriously would it have been worth it to try to sneak into the office and still complete the class. Am I really that desperate to be so responsible?

Stay safe, everyone.

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

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