Sunday, October 19, 2014

The Lady and the Tram : Bleeding man.

Today on the tram something a little bit sad and pathetic happened.

A man boarded the tram and walked right up to the front to sit down. He sat at the "please make this seat available for people who really need to sit down" spot.
You know for Nanna's and pregnant ladies and stuff.

His seat is just in front of mine.
He sits facing to the right, I am facing forwards. So he is in my direct line of vision.

The man has a long beard, but not the hipster kind.
He wears a bucket hat, a flannelette shirt with holes at the elbows, and over the top of that, he wears a long yellow cotton dress. His skin is covered in dirt, and his hand has a cut that has bled, dripped down his hand a little bit, and the blood had started to dry.

The wound is open, not deep, the blood is bright red.

Mine is the next stop.

He notices the line of blood on his hand and starts to try and rub it away. He is neither gentle nor careful. He is vigorously rubbing at the open cut.

I'm 1 minute away from my stop.

I open up my bag, whip out a bandaid, lean over the seat in front of me and say
"Would you like a bandaid? For your hand?"

Like a shy child, he nods and gently takes the bandaid from my hand.

The tram is pulling into my stop.

This is the moment I realise this man has no idea how to open a bandaid.

He starts trying to bite at it, but he can't get it open (cus you know, you've gotta pull that little bit at the top and it just peels open).

So I stand up and walk over to him and ask him if he wants some help.

Again, like small child, he nods, and meekly hands the bandaid wrapper back to me.

I open it up.

Now, there are still 2 plastic bits that need to be removed... So I start to open it up, not the whole way, and I sort of say "so..this bit...goes on the ... umm"

OKAY pause for a second.
Let's get one thing straight.

It's a two handed operation. This guy couldn't even open it.

OBVIOUSLY I am VERY concerned about making ANY CONTACT with this open wound because I'm not STUPID.

But also, I am stupid, because I couldn't just be like "Okay here you go" hand him the half opened bandaid and get off the tram never to see him again.

I stayed on the tram.

The tram pulls away from my stop. I am still with the man.

He holds his hand up, looks at the cut, then looks to me.

I Very, very carefully place the bandaid on his hand, not making any contact with the skin.

Now I've placed it on there, removed one side of the plastic, and said "Okay, now just pull this bit of plastic this way, pointing the direction he needs to pull so the bandaid will stick down.

He starts pulling the plastic upwards. Disaster. The bandaid shifts out of place and is no longer fully covering the area. I try to say again "you have to pull it this way" I'm miming the movement. He's not on board.

At this stage the bandaid is mainly just sitting on regular skin and had moved off the affected area.

Fuck it.

I pull the other side of the bandaid, and so carefully stick it down.

I tell him he needs to wash his hand so it doesn't get infected.

He just looks at me with big eyes and nods.

The tram driver holds his hi-vis evst over half of his face. The man isn't that smelly... The driver says to me "You'll get a disease".

The man looks at me with eyeballs like no one had ever even said hello to him, let alone put a bandaid on his hand.

So I got off at the next stop. Walked home. Washed my hands and wrote this blog post.

So if you don't hear from me ever again. You'll know why.

Sunday, October 5, 2014

The Nest.

There is a door in my apartment building that remains open 96% of the time.
It is between the small foyer area and the courtyard garden of my building.
I walk through the courtyard garden to get to my apartment every day.
I walk through the open door to the foyer everyday.

A bird built it's nest in the wedge of space between the door and the wall.

I stopped and stared at the position of this nest for some time.

The bird flew away because I was so close.

I thought "This is not a smart place for a birds nest. This is a door, doors open and close. This nest is not secure."

I thought to myself "Perhaps...perhaps I should move the nest?"

Then the following thoughts happened in my whacked out head:

1. I am not quite tall enough to safely dislodge this nest.

2. What if I try to dislodge it and the mother bird thinks I am trying to kill her babies, and then she rightfully tries to kill me? Is death-by-mother-bird really the way I want to go out?

No. I don't think so.

3. What if I move the nest, and as I bring the nest down, the baby birds hatch, see me, and think I am their mother. Am I ready to be a mother to baby birds? Would I be willing to vomit up my lunch into their little squawking mouths?

No. I don't think so.

4. This door remains open 96% of the time. I have only seen this door closed maybe 2 or 3 times. I have lived here and walked through here for the past 300 days approximately. I don't know if the statistic makes sense because I guessed it.

I am not a mathematician. 

5. If someone does close the door, is that natural selection? For building your nest in a doorway?

6. I will leave the birds nest here in hopes no one closes this door. Because I am not ready to be killed by a bird, and I am also not ready to be a foster vomit mother to baby birds. Besides, the nest is so big! People will see it, so they won't close the door. Because people use their eyeballs!

7. I am actually running late for work.

The next few days the nest remains. 
All is well.

This morning I go to leave for work.
I hear the flutter of a birds wings.

Flutter or flapping? I don't know. Flutter is a prettier word.

I think to myself "I am sorry to startle you again motherbird!"

I look up to the trees in the courtyard to see a new nest! 

This one is a little nest.

I think "Hmm, I wonder if the mother bird built a new nest, or if this courtyard garden is just prime property for the mother bird market? I wonder how much rent they pay?"

I walk to the doorway and look up to see the big nest is gone.
"It must be a new nest...I wonder what happened to the doorway nest though"
I look down to the ground and see the nest there. There are no eggs inside. My immediate feeling is relief.

Someone must have had the same thought as me, and removed the nest because it was a silly place for it, and also they were tall enough to reach it. 

Mother bird has built a nice new nest in the tree tops and all is well.

Behind the nest the door mat is propped up against the wall.

Strange. People cannot wipe their feet when the door mat is up against the-

Then I see them.

The little blue egg shell on the ground.


Then I see why the mat is against the wall.
It has a thick yellow yolk crushed into the bristles.

My whole head fills up with salty liquid and heat.

I do not cry even though my eyes are like "yeah you're gonna", because I suppress my emotions before I feel anything too hard.

The unborn bird babies are dead.

And I inadvertently killed them. Negligence. Unborn Baby Bird Murderer Bekky.