april twenty one

a couple weeks ago, i was living on the island with practically no agenda. sure, i had an exam or two, but they were for english courses - thus my relative passivity. the weather was absolutely flawless, the cherry blossoms were in bloom, and i felt dopey as i'd wake up at 11am and slide on some rose-coloured shades. these sunglasses threw everything in a muted, attractive light - like a photograph you might see from the seventies, where everything is a warmer tone. i went to meet a friend for lunch at my favourite haunt, lady marmalade. no rush, no reservations, no agenda. i sat on the bus, and the usual loopy regulars seemed endearing. a girl sat crouched with her legs up on the seat, and she picked coral nail polish off her toenails, flaking onto her tanned skin. a black man with dark sunglasses was listening on his cell phone, biting his plum coloured lip with striking white teeth, smirking and obviously liking very much what he was hearing on the receiver. i sat back and enjoyed the bus ride - possibly the first time i had done so that year. usually i'm standing, holding a starbucks medium roast with no sleeve, and weighing the option between surfing the incessant turns and tilts, or touching the grimy metal poles for balance.
but not this day.
when i reached my destination, a crowded douglas street, i bellowed thanks! to the driver, and pranced off the bus. just as my feet padded the ground, i stood, frozen with shock. i witnessed an ancient man fall. this wasn't just any fall, though. the word "fall" is usually accompanied by the word "catch", or "land". this was not the case. this man's feet both fled the ground and came out from beneath him with astonishing speed. his head was the first to "catch". the unforgiving pavement caught his skull with a sickening crack, and then rest of his body "landed".
i have this unabashed feeling of respect for those individuals who, when faced with something sinister or frightening, can keep cool. i cannot.
one time, a roommate of mine was baking bread in the oven on a very low temperature. she placed a canary yellow cloth over top a bowl which contained the bread. the oven began seeping with smoke, and someone commented on it. when the oven was opened, a barrage of flames leapt out and licked the air. i was paralyzed. even if i could move, i think, somehow, that my reaction would be to move away from the fire, instead of toward it. a friend, brie, stepped forth calmly and grabbed with towel, threw it in the sink and doused it with water. everyone laughed, sighed, chuckled with relief, but i just stood motionless, in the exact same spot.
anyways, this poor old man.
people all around him stepped up, took charge, dialed paramedics, everything. i just stood there, shamefully. i watched some blood pool near the back of his head and his eyelids flutter. then, becoming removed by the masses of people stopping to watch, i turned my back and walked away. i stared at the cracked pavement, and i took off my stupid, tinted sunglasses.