- 1 sublet. (Near a handicap accessible subway station.)
- 12 packets of Carnation Instant Breakfast. (Vanilla flavored.)
- 2 containers of PB2. (One plain, one chocolate.)
- 5 KIND granola bars*. (That have lived in your backpack for 1 month.)
- 1 miniature water bottle. (With a hook; easy for crutching.)
- 1 3/4 shreds of dignity remaining
- 3.5 weeks. (To make all this last.)
If you're looking for a strong reason of why I am leaving Ohio to return to NYC before my foot heals & still on crutches, I can give you that. Strong in that I feel very passionately about the fact that I cannot stay here any longer or my head will explode brown & orange. Why brown & orange? Because those are the colors of the Cleveland Browns and the fact that they are what I first&foremost thought of as the remnants of my skull explosion is sad. (It should at least be the Cavs, as they're seasonably good, but the Browns...)
If you're looking for a practical reason of why I'm going back to NYC... I can't give you that. However, I can give you a weak-practical, practical-strong reason: I need to be auditioning.
Let's take a look into how the audition scene might go for an actor on crutches:
Stares from folks in elevator. An actor on crutches enters audition sign-up area. Stares from waiting individuals. The actor approaches sign-in table.
MONITOR: Hello, would you like a-- Oh, my. Aren't you in bad shape.
CRUTCHY McGEE: AH, well. You know, LIFE!!
MONITOR: OK...
Crutchy receives time slot and enters holding area. Stares from actors. Stares from actors. Stares, a "walk" down the long hallway, Crutchy finds a seat eventually. Stares. Silence sans the crutches, noises of crutches. Wobble with the large backpack on back. Stares, sit. Wobble.
ACTOR 1: Oh, here, sorry, let me move my stuff.
CRUTCHY McGEE: OH NO IT'S OK DON'T WORRY ABOUT ME I'M FINE!
ACTOR 1: Why are you smiling like that?
CRUTCHY McGEE: I'M NOT, AM I!? SORRY!
Sit.
ACTOR 1: So, what happened?
CRUTCHY McGEE: I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM DON'T TELL THEM I LEFT GOODBYE.
Crutch away, Crutchy... Crutch, crutch away. Stares.Thankfully, I am no novice like Crutchy. I've at least been to two auditions + about a million other places inappropriate for crutches on crutches. I expect the stares. I expect the stairs. I expect to defend how it's not inappropriate. I expect to complain (in my head) about the handicap inaccessibility of America. I expect people to stare at me while I am forced to do stairs due to the handicap inaccessibility of America and because I must in fact appropriately be there. Wherever. (Sometimes wineries are necessary, yes, when you've simply reached that point. Or it's your mom's birthday. I know you get it.) I recently bought a new trendy backpack handbag, as I've learned that my military-grade Northface backpack is just that-- very heavy and meant for college textbooks. Plus, if you're going to be stared at on crutches, your backpack might as well be patterned and light. It's the only light thing about you. As I'm clearly an expert on how to life live on crutches, I want to give both you and my returning-to-NY-self a list of tips on how to survive foot- and hand-less.
1. Have a lot of money.
2. Take a car everywhere.
3. Order all of your groceries from Fresh Direct.
4. Or eat out.
5. Use your elevator.
6. Win!
Aw, no, it's OK, man! I was just kidding. You don't have to go rob a bank.
Alright, well, that's pretty unnecessary. If you have better things to do, you can certainly return to them. (Also, you might want to check out the growth rate of your nose; it's alarming.)
1. Wear a cool backpack. (Done.)
2. Supply your other foot with a supportive closed toe shoe.
3. Don't wear a dress.
4. Be mindful of your shirt(s) riding up your side and exposing your midriff & underwear.
5. Or don't. Take advantage of the excuse to look like a slob.
6. OR take extra effort to look amazing at all times so people will either a. be incredibly impressed at your ability to emit such grace & beauty even in the line of injury, or b. forget you're on crutches entirely.
8. Employ the right to belittle with your eyes those individuals who don't give up their subway seat for you. You literally are the most repeated recorded announcement on every public transportation system everywhere.
9. Only use handicap subway stations. It's-- I know. I know, it's hard, but-- Just. Please. It's so much better this way.
10. If fanny packs weren't fanny packs, you'd really benefit in wearing one for easy access to phone and wallet. However, they're fanny packs, so.
I'm glad that you now know everything about wearing crutches in New York City. The next step is to break, hairline fracture, or sprain one of your feet or maybe a leg. You could always do both.
I don't want you to every feel abandoned whilst incapable of doing anything for yourself. That's why I'm going to provide you with a link to Uber, the convenient and classy perfection of city transportation. Not only am I going to provide you with information about this incredibly easy-to-use app, but I am also going to share a really stellar code to enter when you join Uber: anz68 . Enter that into the little box when they ask for a code and not only will you be happier, but I will also get a free ride. And in the end, isn't that all that really matters? Trust me, young grasshopper: one day, you too will be able to supply someone with your Uber code. It all starts with one... one input of my code... to unlock your future...
What have you learned today? To petition to the New York MTA subway system to install more elevators? To give all of your extra money to injured city dwellers? To buy a cute handbagbackpack regardless of your life situation? I believe, this time, the answer lies in your hands. Perhaps also your back, if you decide to carry a non-walker on it. Perhaps your fingers as you type in an Uber code. Perhaps your brain as you ponder fiscal philosophy.
(**
)Perhaps your eyes as you divert them from someone who doesn't want to be stared at. Which, I can almost guarantee, is most everybody. People on crutches are not nearly the worst-off people in the world, but they are pretty helpless in specific situations and have feelings just like everyone else. Just like that Amish family at the beach or the exhausted parent with a roaring temper-tantrum baby on the train-- they have a unique quality that makes their lives different and interesting to look at, but that doesn't mean you need to stare at them. If you blink, I don't think they'll go away. And if they do, then they are definitely worth staring at when they come back.* Aw, man, since beginning this draft, my dog Annie has eaten one of them and sopped another's packaging with her saliva. That means I'm down to 4.
**Screenshot of actual message sent this week. To be taken seriously.
**Most importantly, this week we say goodbye to a brave batch of baby birds that have lived right next to our porch here in Amherst. They battled endless photo shoots by my mom and me and torrential downpours every two hours yesterday in an almost Hunger Games-like way. Remarkably, they are still alive. I will say goodbye when I leave.
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| This is their best take. Aren't they troopers? It helped that I cawked at them throughout. |
