“Remoted - Hybrid” – Day 556 (Thursday)

It’s nearly impossible to predict  what might be seen on a lunchtime walk in downtown Lowell. Pre-pandemic, once a strange man (as in, unknown to me as well as, well, strange) told me to “smile.” The response to this unsolicited beauty advice remained in my head, but my inner voice was screaming  “eff you a**hole.”

Countless times there were requests for money, usually from the same two men, one of whom would become angry and hostile upon not receiving any. A state of high alert was necessary to be on the lookout and cross the street if needed.

Interesting, isolated, random things have been seen. One day here was a bicycle tossed onto a frozen canal. Another featured a luncheon tableau of a cigarette pack and Beef-a-Roni can on a window ledge. Nooks and crannies and even a space in the base of a tree sheltered nip bottles.

Today, a walk was taken around 2:00, after a promise to myself to actually get outside once in a while. It’s long past time to start using my allotted lunch period for personal health and well-being. It is doubtful there are any special martyrdoms or medals issued in heaven (or hell, can’t be sure) for neglecting to take a break during the work day.

There was no specific destination for the walk, especially since CVS, my usual favorite place for quick errands, closed. The new bookstore was briefly considered despite the fear of being tempted to buy more books without having finished the two from the last visit.

The afternoon walk started with a random trip through the parking lot and a quiet stroll along a cobblestone street. Some restaurants have not resumed lunch service, so the sidewalk tables were empty which was good because I always feel weird walking past people who are eating.

There is a shady asphalt pocket park nestled between several brick buildings which is usually empty and desolate looking. Today it was full of life with a half-dozen college age students milling about, probably from the Middlesex Community College branded buildings nearby.

At the end of the street, where there are always people gathered, Latin dance music was blasting. A walking tour paused at one of the Black History Walking tour markers on Central Street and a woman read from a sheet of paper in a voice that was not nearly loud enough to be heard over the music, but she kept reading. Steps away at the TD Bank drive-up, a car was parked straddling the entry to both drive up lanes, making access to either one a challenge.

Further down on Market Street, a small group of people was collected in the street. A tall and beautiful young woman dressed in a designer ensemble of a white, asymmetric mini dress with a band crisscross wrapped up one leg was posing in the crosswalk while a couple people took photos. When the light changed at the intersection behind her and the traffic resumed, the group moved out of the street to the sidewalk, still near the crosswalk. A Postal truck was the first vehicle in the line and it stopped to let the group cross the street, which isn’t really what they seemed like they wanted to do. After about one second, the model ran over to the truck and started hanging off it and posing, the entourage ran back into the street to take pictures and the traffic behind the truck began to honk. 

Model swinging off a mail truck.

Beyond the fashion shoot and across the street was a grassy park outside an apartment building where Calypso music blared and a few people sat on the sidewalk benches. On  my side of the street, just a bit further down, the ear-piercing tone of an alarm competed with the Calypso music and a red light mounted to a brick building flashed. Two people in shirts bearing the name of a hair salon stood on the sidewalk, and a couple doors down, two people in book store tee shirts leaned on the concrete barriers marking the outdoor dining area of a neighboring restaurant and it seemed a bookstore visit was now ruled out. A man exited the building and someone from team salon asked if the alarm was blasting on the second floor, too. The man yelled “it sure is!” I kept walking to escape the racket and before I got very far, the sound of approaching sirens crept in. Four fire trucks arrived on the scene.

Fire alarms and fire trucks.

Ten minutes had passed since leaving the office. It seemed like an entire movie had played out on the street. It began to feel like sensory overload and it was time to flee to the quiet of the office.

Random garden.

A few hours later on the walk to the garage, the interesting facets of the city continued to reveal themselves. A doorway on Merrimack Street was the resting place for two Poland Springs bottles holding what looked suspiciously closer to urine than water. Not far away on John Street, yellow roses bloomed in a garden between two buildings and behind an iron fence. 

It’s a city of noise and clutter and randomness and beauty. You just need to take a walk and look around.