I helped him by pouring his scotch, and Steed has returned the favor, duly coming by to fluff my pillows, pour some tea, and make sure my cell phone is charged.
A broken ankle is no joke. Leg injuries make it pretty hard to get around, so the world has shrunk to what I can see and do from the couch. I had tickets tonight for the opening of the Miller Theatre season-—oh, you full-ankled friends who are still going, have a great time.
The last two days have been a bit of a blur, as the adrenaline from the fall and break wore off, and duller reality set in. I watched the season premiere of CSI, where Grissom looks for Sara. Then today I fired up the microwave popcorn and watched Disturbia—-the teenage, modern update of Rear Window. It was enjoyable to watch the Scooby team take on the roles of Jeff and Lisa, and then take a turn into Nightmare on Elm Street.
What these two shows have in common is the rescue of someone in danger. Sara freed herself from being pinned under a car in the desert, only to wander under the merciless sun with no water, inching to a painful, certain death. Luckily, Grissom and team do not give up looking for her, and since Jorja Fox isn't leaving the series until midseason, Sara is found. Jeff/Kale’s mother is abducted by scary Perry Mason/David Morse, and Kale does not give up looking for her, as he goes through levels and levels of the Morse’s house of horrors, persistently calling “Mom, Mom.”
There is something cathartic to these standard “reached in the nick of time” endings; that’s why they dominate pop culture. I had my own unexpected rescue, after my equally unexpected smash/fall in the subway system. I’m happy to report that New Yorkers did stop to see if I was all right, and several asked me if they could do something. Someone said there was a police station in the subway and they could go get an officer. As I was trying to collect my wits and hang on to my pocketbook, I remembered that the sister of my longest, dearest friend is the police captain of that station.
When the officers came I kept babbling that I need to speak with Cherished Sister. They were certainly surprised I was asking for their commanding officer, and in such a familiar way. They were very vague, in a protective way, about whether she was there at all. After much effort I made it into the police station, where there was some serious police-business commotion going on, but I was barely taking it in.
As I was looking for my driver’s license for ID, I heard an incredulous “M.A.?” and there was Cherished Sister. And thus was I rescued from so many things-—fear, getting lost in the system, making bad, on-the-spot decisions. God, I love this city.