Optimism Backfires and John Selefried

In my everyday optimism I am generally happy and I generally believe everyone else is happy. However as I have stated before, this can backfire quite dramatically. For instance, one morning, on a particularly happy day. I needed to get to school early to refresh my mind with some required reading. I am very organized and leave a full 20 minutes early, quite the accomplishment for me! My husband is extra happy and helpful and even carries my coffee to the car. I give him a friendly wave as I pull out of the driveway and head down the street. Such a lovely day.

As I turn the corner I pass a woman with two dogs on the side of the road. Now, I am living this trying-to-be-nice-and-optimistic thing and I often find that I think others are doing the same. So when she waves at me, I give her my biggest brightest smile and enthusiastically wave right back. (Like a really big wave. Not the couple of fingers Texas wave. Like, the homecoming queen/cheerleader wave.)  I drive on and smile a little to myself at all of the happiness and love in the world.

 As I drive another ten yards I think ‘Hang on, that wave looked slightly frantic to be friendly.’

Another ten yards. ‘Hang on, she was on the ground.’

 Another ten yards ‘and those dogs were circling.’

 I screech to a halt and do a u turn. By the time I make it back the woman is complaining to a very frail old man about the ridiculous woman who waved and drove past. She does a double take as I walk up. I try and put my body between her eye line and my car hoping that she does not put two and two together.

They ask me to call 111 on my cell phone which I do; thinking it is odd that neither of them have a cell phone. I take a look at her leg It does not look good. She says, ‘I think I have broken my ankle’. The emergency operator says that it may take up to an hour. The woman wails. I try and keep her calm. Apparently, I am terrible at keeping her calm because she ignores me and pulls a cell phone out of her pocket. She proceeds to call everyone she knows to tell them the news.
Now, I am looking at my watch thinking ‘Great. Now I will be late.’ And ‘I thought she didn’t have a cell phone...’ So much for being an optimist/nice person. In the space of twenty minutes I have gone from the nice friendly neighbor to the grumbling  version of the stereotype of a New Yorker, at least my stereo type. (I have always thought of New Yorkers as some of the most kickass people in the world. Like, if there ever really was a super hero, he/she would definitely come from New York but because of this, they scare me ever so slightly. But still, I would like to be one, or at least see one for real some day. I figure, if I can get one of them to stop walking so fast, I could get their autograph and then run away and hide. This would serve several purposes; First, this New Yorker would spend the next few days wondering which famous person they looked like. And second, I would get an autograph from a random New Yorker. Which then works brilliantly because when I tell people I have John Selefried’s autograph, everyone will be so impressed. Because they will think they should know who John Selefried is and will be too afraid to ask because, clearly, I am more sophisticated and get autographs from people like John Selefried. If they press me, all I will have to say is ‘You know... John Selefried... from NEW YORK.’ And then I will do that thing with my eyes, make them real wide and nod knowingly and they will spend the rest of the party telling everyone I have John Selefried’s autograph. Then they get to look all sophisticated and cultured because they know who John Selefried is and no one else does. It is just hours of endless happiness and entertainment!)  

By-the-way I did not just leave her there. I left her in the capable hands of a neighborhood doctor and my husband and continued on my way. I spend the first half of my drive to school pondering my grumpiness and the second half pondering the implications of an hour delay of an ambulance... like death. Sometimes I hate it here.