I looked at the clock. It was 6PM, and my very first day as an intern had ended. I prepared myself for the journey home on the city bus.
I had never taken the city bus before. I never needed to, having relied on the Philadelphia subway and train to get me anywhere I had to go. Needless to say, the public bus system was an adventure. By the end of the day I was exhausted and looking forward to the bus ride – but I had forgotten about my shoes.
I had bought brand new black heels for my first day. The heels made me feel taller, at 5’2 and a half, I felt like I could use all the height I could get. By the end of the day though, the sexiness had worn off, and in its place was pain.
As I left the building and headed towards the bus station, I tried to ignore the searing pain in my feet. Sympathetic onlookers watched as I slowly limped towards the bus station. Waiting for the bus was agony. I cursed myself for having not brought along a hidden pair of sneakers.
Finally, the bus rumbled into sight. I carefully boarded the bus and looked around for a place to sit. The bus was packed full of people. People were standing in the aisles, on the seats and any place they could stand. I grabbed a handrail and prepared myself for the ride home. I tried to ignore the pain. I knew that hundreds of women before me had endured the same rite of passage. I didn’t have a right to complain.
I reminded myself that I had made a choice, and I just had to deal with the choice I made. As it was, I tried to stand in the corner, away from the aisles, but the amount of people on board made it impossible to completely be out of the way.
After about 20 minutes, the bus began to clear. I spotted a seat near where I had been standing and gratefully sank into the seat. The pain in my feet began to lessen, and I took out a magazine to read. I was so engrossed in what I had been reading that I hardly noticed as the bus began to fill up again. With only eight more stops to go, I counted down the minutes until I could blissfully take my shoes off and put on a pair of sneakers.
It was then I noticed an elderly man board the bus. He walked with a cane, and his movements were wobbly at best. I looked around for an empty seat for him to sit in; however, the bus was completely full. I then made a quick decision: I got up to give the man my seat. It was close to the front of the bus, and it would be easier for him to exit when his stop came. What I didn’t anticipate, though, was the possibility that my heels would fail me.
When I got up to give him my seat, I didn’t anticipate the bus driver suddenly screeching to a halt, which sent me flying. I managed to ungracefully fly into a bunch of unsuspecting passengers.
In the process, I lost my handbag. It flew to the front of the bus, and I found myself scrambling after it. Talk about awkward. When I finally exited the bus, I’m sure my fellow passengers were grateful. After all, who gets on a bus in heels, anyway?
From now on, I’m bringing a pair of extra shoes.
~Stacy Lipson
Philadelphia,PA
stacy.lipson@temple.edu