Bus drivers, bus riders, music festival ushers and jewelers

Here goes the first one. 

 [photo of the boot or something else will go here]

This weekend's explosions of kindness need a bit of a prelude. About a year ago, I was told that I had a broken bone floating on the bottom of my foot. Everyone has this bone, and it floats in all of us. Except in my case, the bone broke into two pieces, and by the time I visited a podiatrist, each of the two had been floating and irritating the tissues around it for about eight months. This was a sufficient amount of time for fat to accumulate between the two pieces and make it difficult to impossible for the two to re-join and heal into a healthy one. I was put into a removable cast resembling a heavy duty ski boot, and told to keep it on for four months. I did, it healed, and I was back to dancing in heels after what seemed forever.

Today, six months later, I am in a boot once again. My podiatrist is at a loss of an explanation, and has referred me to a colleague. Until he can see me however, I am reunited with "the boot". I did not miss it. So, once again I am in San Francisco, cocktail party (dainty pump) on my right and an impressively heavyweight black contraption on my left. I guess I forget about this incongruity, because I constantly find myself surprised by the number of people who stare at me on the street.

Along with the stares, this misfortune brought on some explosions of kindness from bus drivers, bus riders, music festival ushers, jewelers and new friends' husbands. I'll detail a couple of these instances.

Saturday, to spite my immobility, I planned an event packed day in San Francisco. If you know me even semi-well, you know that I am a walker. I walk everywhere and then I walk some more. When I lived in San Francisco, I spent my weekends walking around, up and down hills, some so steep they require stairs. Sometimes I would leave my apartment in the morning and come back six, seven hours later. I called it urban hiking, it was my "thing".

This time, my journey involved more buses, five to be exact, and fewer hills on foot. When I got on the first bus of the day the bus driver immediately looked down at my foot. While his questions followed the usual template at first, I quickly noticed something different in how he reacted to my answers. He was really listening and processing what I was saying. His face was dynamic with thought and emotion. The way he said: "Well, you'll be alright. Keep wearing that" was full of calm authority, thoughtfulness and warmth. He surprised me.

Two buses and one pedicure later, I was on yet another bus. I would normally walk this leg of the route, but I decided to take mercy on my misaligned hips and take the bus. This time, as soon as I got in, a woman got up and in no uncertain terms, told me to take her seat. I started to walk to the seat, but by then the bus was moving and I was wobbly. The woman in the next seat stretched out her hand and supported me while I surfed the floor to the empty seat next to her. I was touched and surprised once again.

Finally, there were at least three other men who helped me get out of buses and up from chairs. Let's see what tomorrow brings.