A sticky stair situation
On the kindness of strangers and asking for help.
After attending a Christmas concert downtown, I decided to take public transportation back. Having a baby and stroller presented a slight challenge. The most frictionless route home would’ve been to have my husband pick us up. He’d driven us there.
But people ride subways every day with kids and so could I! I’d figure it out.
I had to walk two Blue Line stops until I found one that had an elevator. I didn’t mind this. The weather was pleasant, the kid had dozed off, and I liked the hustle and bustle of the city around Christmastime.
It was when I exited the train at my home station that the sticky situation presented itself. I could’ve sworn this stop had an elevator. It definitely does not. From the elevated train platform, it’s three flights of stairs to the street.
For the first flight, I awkwardly carried the stroller sideways in what was probably the most inefficient way possible. And not good for my back given that I was carrying the weight of a heavy-duty city stroller with a 20+ lb. kid inside. So I re-assessed for flight of stairs number two. As I was formulating my new stair stroller strategy, I realized I was blocking a seemingly able-bodied man from going down.
“Sorry, sorry!” I squished my body to the side so he could pass, feeling so apologetic that I and my stroller and my kid were taking up the amount of space that we couldn’t help take up.
I then tried to take myself and the stroller down backward one stair at a time, which I’ve seen my husband do. It’s slow, but doesn’t strain one’s back. The major difference is that my husband sometimes transports kegs of beer for work and I do not. I was familiar with the backwards stair technique in theory but not in practice.
I just about dropped the stroller, baby and all, after the first step. That wasn’t going to work.
Then, out of nowhere, this angel woman appeared and just grabbed the front of the stroller and helped me down the stairs. She didn’t say a word. Just picked it up and started doing the thing. She had a whole gaggle of kids with her, all of them walking and probably under 10. Clearly, this woman had lots of stroller stair expertise.
Angel woman helped me down the second flight, then another woman appeared and took over. I’m assuming the new stroller stair helper woman insisted on relieving the first woman because she didn’t have anyone with her and felt bad that a mom with kids was helping me? All that is to say, multiple women were trying to help me.
We arrived at the bottom safe and sound. I did not drop my baby down a single stair and my back still feels OK. I felt so appreciative of the kindness of these strangers whom I will never see again.
Once home, it occurred to me that I could’ve asked for help at any point. I didn’t need to walk two subway stops to find one with an elevator. I could have just asked any nice-looking person to help me carry my stroller. When I got off the train and was faced with three flights down, I especially should’ve asked the able-bodied man instead of apologizing to him for simply existing.
I’m sure anyone I asked would have cheerfully obliged since it was two days before Christmas. Everyone likes to do a good holiday deed as long as it’s not too much effort, which helping a woman carry a stroller down a few stairs really isn’t. Instead, I just tried to white-knuckle my way through the situation and thank goodness a couple of strangers stepped in to lend a hand.
Asking for help is not something I ever think to do. My default mode of operation has always been to do all things by myself. My get-it-done-yourself approach often serves me well, except when it doesn’t. It’s only when someone insists on helping me, and I benefit from that help, that I realize I actually how much I need it.
It’s like when you recline into an overstuffed La-Z-Y boy chair and kick your feet up. You don’t realize how comfortable those goofy-looking chairs are until you sit in one. It feels so good to be supported.
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