A Streetcar Named Delulu

Relying on the kindness of strangers

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Grand Marshal wondering what the #$@&ing holdup is.

Hi, friends! A few weeks ago, I listened to a podcast episode (#306) of This American Life that featured stories with the theme: Seemed like a good idea at the time. Immediately, I thought of  something that happened to my sister and me back in 2010.

It was late October, and my sister Sue and I had just enjoyed a relaxing girls’ weekend in Cape May, New Jersey, just the two of us. If you’ve never been, Cape May is a charming beach town with gorgeous old Victorian houses, eclectic dining, and fun little boutiques. It’s also highly walkable, so once I parked at our bed & breakfast on Friday morning, we ventured everywhere on foot.

On Sunday, after checking out, we decided to squeeze in a few final hours of eating and shopping in town. We drove to the outdoor Washington Street Mall, essentially a town square with lots of stores and restaurants. From there, I’d hit the highway and take Sue directly to the Philadelphia airport (about 90 plus minutes north) for her return flight to Florida. I’d then continue northwest to my home in suburban Philly.

We headed back to my car with just enough time to get to the airport and discovered, to our horror, that my Subaru was now completely blocked in by parade floats, marching bands, and hordes of costumed kids. Apparently, we had parked in the staging area for the annual Cape May Halloween parade. Which suddenly explained why we were able to score a prime spot in the parking lot hours earlier.

While I panicked, Sue found a woman with a clipboard who looked like she might be in charge and asked when the parade would start moving.

Oh, about 30-40 minutes.

Sue said something to the effect of Ohhhhh crap. I’m gonna miss my flight.

And then the woman did something completely unexpected, that still confounds me today. She flagged down the fire marshal, who immediately began orchestrating our escape. He rounded up his guys to move people aside (We gotta get these girls outta here!) and told me to tail his vehicle through the path he created.

Sue and I were stunned. We grew up in Philly, where this would NEVER happen. And frankly, we wouldn’t expect it. After all, we were the two birdbrains who parked in a parade zone.

We grew up in Philly, where this would NEVER happen. And frankly, we wouldn’t expect it. After all, we were the two birdbrains who parked in a parade zone.

Our savior parted the sea of princesses, vampires, and superheroes (and their equally befuddled parents) and we pulled away, waving out our windows like British royalty to the staring parade-goers who now flanked our path.

By the time we split off onto the exit road, we were laughing so hard we were crying. More than a decade later, we still crack up talking about it.

Aside from being a funny memory, it had the effect of shifting my jaded views in a more hopeful direction. The people who helped us owed us nothing. Yet, they all jumped in so my sister could get home.

Stories as a balm in uncertain times

I’m not so sure we’d encounter that same willingness to help if it happened today. The world feels angrier and more divisive almost 15 years later.

Still, my overriding optimism tells me it’s a mistake to let the negativity that dominates the news overshadow the multitude of kind and uplifting interactions that take place every day, everywhere.

It’s lazy and simplistic to generalize about people. I know this. I’m guilty of doing it anyway. But once in a while I’m reminded by a personal essay, or a thread of tweets, or a podcast, that there are people out there who are willing to extend themselves to help a stranger.

That an uncertain situation can end up working out favorably.

And that sometimes the mishap turns out to be the part of a memory you look back at and cherish the most. Like going to a concert last summer with my friends and getting caught in a downpour that turned the entire field into a sea of mud.

My parade story is a small one. Had it turned out the way we anticipated, it wouldn’t have been a catastrophe. An inconvenience maybe, and even then a minor one. A missed flight. A flurry of phone calls and online searches to book another. More time together, which is never a bad thing when you live 1,000 miles apart.

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Three Things That Inspired, Entertained, or Intrigued Me

1. I’ve been listening to the new podcast, MeSsy, by Christina Applegate and Jamie-Lynn Sigler. They get real about living with multiple sclerosis (the MS of MeSsy) in a way that’s refreshingly unfiltered and not prettied up to make people feel more comfortable. Anyone dealing with an unexpected challenge—and really, who isn’t?—will get something from their conversations, which are often funny. Morbidly so. There’s genuine affection between the two and hearing them together is like hanging with friends.
   
   They also have great guests on the show, such as Edie Falco, who played Jamie’s mom on The Sopranos. I loved what she had to say about acceptance and not deciding in advance how things should be:
   
   “All I’ve ever wanted was to manage what’s coming at me.”
   

2. The Instagram account @heyfreesamples has an ongoing bit about two parents at Home Depot, from the POV of their adult son. Here’s one but check out the series, which is hilarious. The creators are part of a group of women who make funny reels together. Here’s another you might like: women at a restaurant.
   

3. I’ve witnessed some out-there stuff and believe in ghosts, psychic phenomena, and the afterlife. When it comes to reincarnation, I have no personal experience (that I’m aware of), but I’m open minded. I’m fascinated by this article in The Washington Post about children who remember past lives.