"I Love America" Moment
Yesterday I had an “I love America” moment that I had to share.
Wednesday afternoon as I was waiting for the MARTA train in Atlanta, a Chinese woman (she was speaking Chinese into her cell phone, I am not just grouping all Asian-looking people into the Chinese category) paused in her conversation and thrust her phone to my ear repeating, “Excuse me. Excuse me.”
Immediately, I had a crazy New Yorker moment. Why is this stranger thrusting her phone at me? I am not getting involved in whatever crazy scam this is. I am not giving her my Social Security number. I am not-
“She needs directions. She wants you to talk to the person on the phone.”
“Huh?” I turned around to face a black couple sitting a few feet from me.
“She needs directions. Take the phone,” urged the woman.
To be honest, I was still very New-York-I-don’t-want-to-get-involved-with-strangers put out, but I couldn’t appear ungracious or inhospitable in front of my new neighbors so I took the phone.
The voice on the other end told me in halting English where the woman needed to go. I had not been in Atlanta a full week and had no idea what or where this place was. I turned to the helpful couple, “Dodoville? Doraville?”
“Doraville. She’s trying to get to Doraville,” the woman replied. Then she started to give me elaborate instructions for arriving there.
I made a face.
An older Hispanic man sitting in between me and the couple started to gesture then grumbled and grunted words that resulted in him volunteering to lead the woman to Doraville because he was headed there as well. He took the phone from me and I almost started laughing thinking about the broken English battle that was about to ensue, but then I smiled. There I was in the heart of the Old South (now the heart of the New South) among all those different people from different places who barely spoke a common language, but they were coming together to help each other out. I was witnessing a little slice of America at its best. I love it here.
Wednesday afternoon as I was waiting for the MARTA train in Atlanta, a Chinese woman (she was speaking Chinese into her cell phone, I am not just grouping all Asian-looking people into the Chinese category) paused in her conversation and thrust her phone to my ear repeating, “Excuse me. Excuse me.”
Immediately, I had a crazy New Yorker moment. Why is this stranger thrusting her phone at me? I am not getting involved in whatever crazy scam this is. I am not giving her my Social Security number. I am not-
“She needs directions. She wants you to talk to the person on the phone.”
“Huh?” I turned around to face a black couple sitting a few feet from me.
“She needs directions. Take the phone,” urged the woman.
To be honest, I was still very New-York-I-don’t-want-to-get-involved-with-strangers put out, but I couldn’t appear ungracious or inhospitable in front of my new neighbors so I took the phone.
The voice on the other end told me in halting English where the woman needed to go. I had not been in Atlanta a full week and had no idea what or where this place was. I turned to the helpful couple, “Dodoville? Doraville?”
“Doraville. She’s trying to get to Doraville,” the woman replied. Then she started to give me elaborate instructions for arriving there.
I made a face.
An older Hispanic man sitting in between me and the couple started to gesture then grumbled and grunted words that resulted in him volunteering to lead the woman to Doraville because he was headed there as well. He took the phone from me and I almost started laughing thinking about the broken English battle that was about to ensue, but then I smiled. There I was in the heart of the Old South (now the heart of the New South) among all those different people from different places who barely spoke a common language, but they were coming together to help each other out. I was witnessing a little slice of America at its best. I love it here.
posted by YG&B | 1:20 PM
1 Comments:
At our best, YG&B, we are so beautiful. Yay for you playing your part!--Daisy B.
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