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New York City: Where the “Fun” Never Ends. (Part 1)
March 9, 2010
Darned if I didn’t do it again. As I’ve told you before, I have a penchant for blaming high blood glucose that lasts several hours on a high-fat meal I’ve eaten when, as I discover later, the infusion set to my insulin pump has come out.
It happened again last Thursday, after my grandson and I had eaten a buncha lotta fried foods for lunch before heading back to LaGuardia Airport to fly home from New York City. “I smell insulin,” he’d say, and I’d shrug it off, thinking about what I’d eaten. Plus a boost from a bit of stress at the airport.
Then I discovered that (you guessed it) my infusion set had come out. Oh, when will I ever learn?
It had been an “interesting” trip from the beginning. For the story, let’s go back…back…back…to last Tuesday morning. At about 6 AM. In my driveway, where the van was awaiting loading for our two-night grandmother–grandson trip.
I had made my final trip out of the house and, while waiting for Grandson to load the luggage into the van, decided to clear the trash and clutter and start the van up to heat. I didn’t know anything was amiss…until I stood up to gather the schmutz from the front of the van and noticed I was in my stocking feet. Yep. I was about to head off to the big city with no shoes.
“They would have thought I was a hillbilly!” I said to Grandson when he brought my shoes out.
“You are,” he retorted. (For those who don’t know, I really am, having been born and raised in West Virginia. If you could hear me speak, there’d be no doubt.)
Without further incident, we got to the airport, turned the van over to valet parking, upgraded our ticket to business class and were on our way. Life was good.
Until, that is, shortly after we arrived in NYC. About seven blocks from the hotel, the steering column on my mobility scooter began to flop around. No amount of tightening would get it to stay steady. Finally, on 45th Street in Times Square, the column fell forward and the basket came off. Two very nice gentlemen picked up the basket, put my belongings back into it, and put the basket back on the scooter.
It fell forward again. The gentlemen went through their moves again. Would the third time be a charm?
Nope. Just different. This time, I carefully held onto the handlebars so the steering column wouldn’t flop forward and turned to make my way back to the hotel.
Er, tried to turn, anyway. Instead of turning, the scooter jumped the curb and went careening straight into the middle of 45th Street, with my knights in shining armor running to stop it. The steering column had broken. That is to say, it was no longer attached to anything. The knights somehow jammed the steering column back in so the scooter would turn and I carefully made my way back to the hotel, stopped off at the concierge’s desk to order a rental and went up to the room…where the steering column came off again at the door to the room. At least the timing was better this time.
Parking the inoperable scooter-turned-paper-weight in an out-of-the-way place under the window of the sitting room, I waited until the rental was delivered, at which time Grandson and I made our way to Nintendo World — about one-and-a-half blocks away.
The rental made it about halfway before starting to fink out on me. While it said it was charged, it acted as if it weren’t. It would run for a short distance, then I would have to turn it off and wait awhile until I could turn it back on and creep forward a few more yards.
I called the rental person. I was in midtown. He was uptown. It was rush hour. He did not sound happy. Nevertheless, he delivered a new scooter to me at Nintendo World. (Where, by the way, I couldn’t go upstairs with Grandson because the elevator was broken.) Since he was the owner, I wasn’t quite sure about tipping him for his efforts, so I gave him some money and told him to buy his wife some flowers for coming home late.
At least that scooter worked and I could get where I wanted, when I wanted. That would all change on the way home.
Next week: The “fun” never ends; plus, why was Jan stuck in a hotel room with nothing but a blanket to wear?
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