A thing happened to us in an LA transit station that never-ever happens in San Francisco: a safety officer tried to shepherd the kids... sort of. I can't say exactly why this has never happened to us in San Francisco, but I've got ideas: frankly, I think San Francisco is just used to us. We live there. We're in and out of the stations several times a day every day. Consequently, I'm guessing the same folks who are in the station day after day have noticed the gang plenty of times, perhaps so many times they've completely discounted them at this point.
LA on the other hand, seems not to be used to us yet.
Our tale starts a few days back. The kids had spent most of the day doing a seven mile hike up to Griffith Observatory. We met downtown shortly afterwards to head out on a Metro train. The journey was pleasant enough—Metro trains are kinda odd for denizens of BART because you can't move from car to car. The kids ride subways every day, so they walk back and forth around the train checking things out, usually well away from me. A man with a large cart of equipment stood next to me. As he figured out I was the dad of this crew of kids, he gave me the looks I’ve grown used to: at first concerned (“Do you see what your kids are doing?”) morphing slowly to amused (“Oh look they’re not falling down!”) and then to the every-day oblivious (“Hunh, the kids yelled at each other and he told them to stop. He’s not an irresponsible parent.”) Arriving at our destination we headed for the escalators. The man and his cart headed for the elevator.
4 year-old No. Three had a small blister on her foot, so she and I were making our way through the station a little more slowly. The gang all know their way around transit stations in general and this one in particular, so it was no surprise when 8 year-old No. One and 6 year-old No. Two ranged out ahead. They cruised up the escalator, ran around the corner and were gone. Seriously though, it wasn’t an issue. We all knew the biggish corridor with three separate escalators and turns led to a single destination; Three and I would meet them at the top.
As Three and I summited the last escalator we found ourselves in an grand entrance way full of video screens, ticket machines, and the general hubbub created by the comings and goings of fellow travelers. I saw One and Two about twenty yards out taking it all in while they waited for us. Awesome! They’d done a great job! Now we could find our next train together. At the same time though, I saw something else. A safety officer was walking after a woman shouting at her as she went.
“Ma’am. Ma’am! Ma’am, your’ children!”
The woman kept walking, because well, why would anyone be talking to her about children? I watched on. Surely not. Surely this wasn’t happening? But... Well... I giggled a little to myself.
Completely unable to attract the attention of One and Two’s erstwhile ‘mother’, the guard hesitated. She had a decision to make: chase the mother, or address the kids. To her credit, she did what few adults will do, she attempted to address the kids. “Girls! Hey girls!”
One and Two didn’t respond any better than their ‘mother’ figure. First, while Two’s hair has gotten a bit long, he’s a boy. Second, exactly like the woman, they lacked any sense of context for the guard’s entreaties. They too were totally unresponsive. Why would anyone be hollering at them?
The guard started to pursue them. I watched on in amused wonderment as Three and I walked towards the whole fiasco. We were still about twelve yards off. We’d get there, but it was debatable if it would be before she caught them.
Suddenly, the man with the cart appeared out of nowhere, “Their dad’s right over there.”
She peered around. Her eyes went right past me. No fathers over there. She swiveled her head, scanning back across. As she did, her eyes caught sight of my parenting bona fides: Three, who was standing beside me.
“Are you their father?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, well OK.” she tapered into a mumble and wandered off.
I yelled “Yo guys!”
The kids pivoted around to see Three and I. Finally reunited we headed out. One and Two never realized anything was even slightly amiss.
And so it was that a world set akimbo—to the guard at least—got back on kilter. Sometimes kids do explore on their own. Sometimes dads do hangout with kids rather than moms. And sometimes strangers pay attention and lend a helping hand.
LA on the other hand, seems not to be used to us yet.
Our tale starts a few days back. The kids had spent most of the day doing a seven mile hike up to Griffith Observatory. We met downtown shortly afterwards to head out on a Metro train. The journey was pleasant enough—Metro trains are kinda odd for denizens of BART because you can't move from car to car. The kids ride subways every day, so they walk back and forth around the train checking things out, usually well away from me. A man with a large cart of equipment stood next to me. As he figured out I was the dad of this crew of kids, he gave me the looks I’ve grown used to: at first concerned (“Do you see what your kids are doing?”) morphing slowly to amused (“Oh look they’re not falling down!”) and then to the every-day oblivious (“Hunh, the kids yelled at each other and he told them to stop. He’s not an irresponsible parent.”) Arriving at our destination we headed for the escalators. The man and his cart headed for the elevator.
4 year-old No. Three had a small blister on her foot, so she and I were making our way through the station a little more slowly. The gang all know their way around transit stations in general and this one in particular, so it was no surprise when 8 year-old No. One and 6 year-old No. Two ranged out ahead. They cruised up the escalator, ran around the corner and were gone. Seriously though, it wasn’t an issue. We all knew the biggish corridor with three separate escalators and turns led to a single destination; Three and I would meet them at the top.
As Three and I summited the last escalator we found ourselves in an grand entrance way full of video screens, ticket machines, and the general hubbub created by the comings and goings of fellow travelers. I saw One and Two about twenty yards out taking it all in while they waited for us. Awesome! They’d done a great job! Now we could find our next train together. At the same time though, I saw something else. A safety officer was walking after a woman shouting at her as she went.
“Ma’am. Ma’am! Ma’am, your’ children!”
The woman kept walking, because well, why would anyone be talking to her about children? I watched on. Surely not. Surely this wasn’t happening? But... Well... I giggled a little to myself.
Completely unable to attract the attention of One and Two’s erstwhile ‘mother’, the guard hesitated. She had a decision to make: chase the mother, or address the kids. To her credit, she did what few adults will do, she attempted to address the kids. “Girls! Hey girls!”
One and Two didn’t respond any better than their ‘mother’ figure. First, while Two’s hair has gotten a bit long, he’s a boy. Second, exactly like the woman, they lacked any sense of context for the guard’s entreaties. They too were totally unresponsive. Why would anyone be hollering at them?
The guard started to pursue them. I watched on in amused wonderment as Three and I walked towards the whole fiasco. We were still about twelve yards off. We’d get there, but it was debatable if it would be before she caught them.
Suddenly, the man with the cart appeared out of nowhere, “Their dad’s right over there.”
She peered around. Her eyes went right past me. No fathers over there. She swiveled her head, scanning back across. As she did, her eyes caught sight of my parenting bona fides: Three, who was standing beside me.
“Are you their father?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, well OK.” she tapered into a mumble and wandered off.
I yelled “Yo guys!”
The kids pivoted around to see Three and I. Finally reunited we headed out. One and Two never realized anything was even slightly amiss.
And so it was that a world set akimbo—to the guard at least—got back on kilter. Sometimes kids do explore on their own. Sometimes dads do hangout with kids rather than moms. And sometimes strangers pay attention and lend a helping hand.
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