A Peaceful Stroll

Sam and I went on our usual walk last night - this time, once again along the bike path by the canal. We like walking the bike path because we don’t have to deal with any traffic, at least we don’t have to once we walk from where we park. And because we’re away from traffic, it’s a lot quieter and more peaceful than, say, walking around town. This is true of walking around the college as well, but the bike path is a little bit longer and it can be a little more interesting - especially if we haven’t walked it in awhile.

So last night, we walked along and it was pretty much like usual. Nothing but the steady sound of the water as it rushed through the canal along side us.

We walked down the path until we came to a point where there's a rickety foot bridge that crosses the canal on the right side of us, and a path leading up a small hill and through a small garden, is on the left.

Whenever we walk here, this is the point where we sometimes decide to continue on straight down the bike path, and sometimes we decide to walk up the small hill. We’ve never decided to cross the rickety footbridge, and last night was no exception.

Rather than go straight, Sam and I turned and we walked up the small hill, passing through a small garden area where we stopped and briefly looked, first at the flowers and then further ahead, at the berries on the juniper trees.

Continuing on, we walked downhill along the side of a road, where we reconnected with the far end of the bike path.

Turning back onto the bike path, we walked once again along side of the canal - nothing but the sounds of the flowing water and the occasional sounds of me trying to elicit conversation from Sam.

Up ahead of us, coming off of the rickety footbridge, was a woman with her dog. As we got closer, I could see that she had what appeared to be either a very determined or a very angry expression on her face. But what really caught my attention was that she had a cigarette clenched firmly between her tightly pursed lips - and it appeared that while she was walking, she was taking one long, continuous inhale the entire time.

As she crossed our path and headed up the hill, I thought for a brief second about how unusual it was to see someone smoking around here. But as I was thinking about it, the woman, now behind us, suddenly screams out, “Get over here or I’m going to Kick. Your. Ass!” I stopped and looked back. Sam kept walking, seemingly oblivious.

Over on the other side of the footbridge was a young girl, maybe twelve years old or so, who was just starting to cross the bridge and head over to our side. I assumed that this "lucky" young girl was unfortunately that woman’s daughter. I stood there processing all of this, first looking over at the girl, then turning to glare at "Mom. "Mom" glanced down at me, then she turned away and, taking her dog with her, continued on her way.

I caught up with Sam and we continued our walk in the usual silence.

When we went a little further along, I said to Sam, “Boy, I feel bad for that girl. I’m glad I don’t have to listen to something like that every day.” Sam, without looking up, continued walking. He flicked his hand up, pointing back over his shoulder, and said matter-of-factly, “Yeah. She sounds just like the Bubble Boy.”

He was exactly right.

 ***

P.S. If you’re unfamiliar with the Seinfeld “Bubble Boy” episode, here’s a few excerpts. The relevant quote is at about 2:43, but you may as well watch the entire thing...