Thursday, April 03, 2008


I am walking through the South End on a bright, gorgeous, sunny April afternoon. I'm on the way home from my office on the way south side of SoWa to my apartment on Warren Ave to meet the plumber, who should be there at 3 p.m. As I cross Shawmut I shuffle around in my pocket to check the time on my cell phone: 2:45. Perfect, I'll be there just in time.

As usual, I am bag-ladened as I walk: laptop bag on one shoulder, handbag on the other, grocery bag in my right hand, cell phone in my left, and I'm digging around in my pockets contemplating the purchase of today's Globe from the newspaper box on the corner of Shawmut and Union Park if I have enough change.

I don't.

I jostle my bags around in an ill-fated attempt to get my phone back into my purse and get my bag zipped up again without having my laptop fall off my shoulder, all while crossing the street. In the midst of all this I am not watching the road, but my ears perk up at the sound of the robust rumbling of oversized tires and the faint thumping of hip-hop...

What is that???

I scurry across the street as quickly as I can trying not to drop anything, and pause to reassemble myself once I've reached the other side. I raise my gaze just in time to see massive backhoe take a generous right turn onto Union Park.

The driver takes his eyes way off the road to give me a solid once over as he rolls by. He's leaned waaay back in the driver's seat, totally feeling whatever it is that he's listening to up there in the cab of the backhoe--I can't hear a thing over the construction vehicle's rumble. I receive a faint nod as he passes and the backhoe fades off into the distance and makes a left onto Shamwut.

I totally just got cruised by a guy in a backhoe.

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