In the Downtown Pittsburgh ghost town that is G-20, there were still a few civilians, clued in and clueless alike, populating the streets.
Police, police cars and security officers were everywhere. Sidewalks were blocked and shops were closed.
And yet! Starbucks in ripped-up
Market Square was open. As I walked back to the office with my small skim latte, a passed a tiny old woman walking hesitantly across the Boulevard of the Allies. When I reached the office door, the security guards asked me if I knew where 21 West Park was.
It's not a where, it's a what. It's a bus route. Tiny old woman had asked them, and they, not knowing, sent her along without an answer. I left my latte and wallet in their hands, sprinted after her and brought her back -- turns out she could barely speak -- scribbling to her on her pad that the buses had been rerouted and I would take her to her stop, once I knew where it was.
Well, the guards ushered her into the lobby, I went upstairs, found the route, came back down, explained to her it was up the street only to learn from her hand motions that she expected me to drive her.
Much pointing and gesticulating ensued, including her mouthing that I was crazy. I kept trying to explain that her stop was just up the street but she was having none of it.
Finally I wrote on her pad: "Do you want me to walk you to the bus stop or not?"
She agreed. By the time we had gotten halfway up the block, I pointed out to her where the buses were stopping. She had a flash of recognition, waved me off and trotted ahead.
Hope she figured out the stops for the rest of the weekend.
Anyway tiny old woman. You're welcome.
