Once more the time has come: It’s time to see the dentist.
Ever since we moved my way from our apartment to the dentist takes around half an hour on foot. That’s not so bad, seeing as I enjoy walking and it’s good for me. I also know the way, seeing as the doctor is right around the corner from our former flat. So no big deal.
So I’m off on time, right along that wide street, take a turn onto one somewhat smaller, yet still very busy side street and head on until I’m getting to a crossing that is divided into two parts. There’s traffic lights there, dutifully equipped with one of those buttons for our blind citizens, which I press, of course, and wait for the signal to come through that I can keep going.
The setup around here is somewhat hard to get used to. It’s not uncommon to wait quite some time for the signal to go green. And who honestly stands there and looks on his watch to see just how much time has passed with them waiting there. So I wait.
And wait.
And suddenly a small van stops right next to me, which irritates me. Confused I take my plugs out of my ears (which are set to a small volume anyway) and look at the man now heading towards me in confusion. “You can wait all day long for this to turn green! The lights are broken.” He’s about my height and probably a handyman of sorts, seeing I immediately notice the muscles under his shirt once he offers his arm to me. “May I help you across the street?”
That’s what he does then. Just like that. He stopped as if he had promised to meet me right then and there, asks politely whether he can help, does help, receives a still somewhat strained “Thanks!” and is back on his way.
Thank you, person.
