I walked out of my apartment building this morning directly into a panicked woman in a weird costume standing beside a Vespa. With pleading eyes she asked me if I knew anything about mo-peds. I lied and said I did. I knocked it off its kickstand for her and turned to leave but she asked for more help, in near tears.
Apparantly, this was her first day of a really bad job and she had taken a tumble on the Vespa. Now she was paralyzingly afraid of the machine, but she had to get it back to Bowery and couldn’t even get it into neutral. Being the gentleman that I am, I offered to assist. I rode motorcycles as a kid, so I tried to start it, but I think the engine was flooded. I ended up pushing while the go-go girl walked along side, which was probably for the best because I had no helmet or license.
Relieved to be rescued—she had asked five other people for help—the girl calmed down and we made small talk. She told me her name was Laura and that she was an actress; I never would have guessed.
When we made it to the garage, she tried to give me a free cup of coffee, but her dispenser was broken. She offered to give me the pot because she planned on quitting ASAP. I declined, but I did get a photo and a heartfelt “thank-you”.
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SOTD: When this time comes, I hope we will be living in different state institutions.