Monday, September 10, 2012

Stuck on the Bridge

It was a beautiful Friday evening at the end of August, and Marisa had a good reason to be happy! We were on our way to Manhattan to see Bring It On, a Broadway show Marisa had requested. The show was scheduled for 8 PM, so we left home at 5:30, planning to meet Marisa's sister, Shoshana, at a restaurant near the theater. There was no reason to believe that anything would go wrong. The sky was clear, and the traffic on the Long Island Expressway was moving well.

We were traveling along keeping a steady pace, keeping on schedule. All was going well till we approached the 59th Street bridge, when everything came to a sudden halt. We had a 6:30 restaurant reservation. It was 6 PM.

If we don't start moving, all hell will break loose! I was thinking. Needless to say, my husband was probably having the same thought.

"Look! We're moving!" We were inching forward, but I tried to sound optimistic.

"I don't want to be late! I don't want to eat late!" was Marisa's reply.

"We won't. Don't worry! We have 30 minutes to get off the bridge and make it to the restaurant," I reminded her.

The clock advanced to 6:20 and we weren't even over the East River yet.

"I don't want to be late. I'll eat fast! I'll eat fast!" Marisa pleaded, anger and desperation in her voice.

At 6:25 I called Shoshana to let her know we were going to be late.  Fifteen minutes later we were still on the bridge but had advanced over the East River. I called Shoshana and told her to enjoy her dinner without us. "I'm so sorry," I said. Marisa was not happy to hear this, as she continued to complain about arriving at the restaurant late.

Finally we were approaching the end of the bridge and could see that things were not moving any better. The intersection off the bridge was totally blocked by cars going against the light. There was constant honking and total disregard for the traffic lights. So, it appeared, here was the source of the problem. No accident had caused the delay. No broken traffic light had caused the delay. It was simply a disregard for traffic signals ... a desperation of people eager to get out of the city. Odd as it seemed, who would think that things could be so disorganized due to the approaching Labor Day weekend? Where were the traffic officers?

It was now 7 PM and it didn't take us long to realize that we weren't going to make it to the restaurant at all. We were a mile away, yet weren't able to move. The intersection remained blocked as we sat watching the traffic light change to red more than 5 times.

"Maybe we should eat after the show," Dan announced.

"I hate eating late," Marisa cried out. "I want to eat first. I'll eat fast," she insisted. "I'll eat fast!"

It was 7:30 and we were still in the traffic jam. Would we even make it to the parking garage and get to the show on time?  Dan and I were both becoming anxious at this point. Our car was stuck in the crosswalk, and oddly, people crossing the street were banging on the back of our car.  Marisa, turned to see the pedestrians behind the car. Frightened by the people, and upset about the late hour, she was crying in the back seat. What started as an evening to enjoy had turned into a nightmare!

I called Shoshana. She had finished dinner by herself. I told her to meet us at the theater. I was hopeful as we finally made the turn on to 2nd Avenue. We only had to go some 10 blocks and across to the west side. How difficult could that be? We hadn't taken into account that we could be stuck behind bicycle carriage drivers. It seemed like there was going to be one obstacle after another as Marisa continued to cry out, "I'll eat fast! I'll eat fast!

We approached the parking garage at 7:55. We filed out and Dan received his parking stub from the attendant. Then we started to race for the theater.

Dan noticed a pizza place and asked Marisa, "Do you want a slice of pizza?" I thought, Is eating more important than getting to the show on time? Surely, Marisa must realize this?

"I'll eat later!" she replied with confidence and certainty that she had made the right decision.

My heart leaped as Dan and I looked at each other realizing that Marisa had thought it through and had come to a wise decision all by herself. There was an affirmation that with age comes wisdom, even for our daughter with special needs. We couldn't have been more proud!