What To Do When Your Foot Is Stuck Under Your Scooter

This morning I rolled the scooter over, and onto, my right foot. Specifically, I rolled the back tire over my big and second toes, perhaps some of my third toe. It was difficult to tell. Rolling your scooter tire over your foot is hard to do. At least, I've never done it before.

I had only dismounted for a moment to slip some books into the drop-box outside the library. I was in a rush to get to a conference I had to attend for work, dressed in Monday-through-Friday clothes. Luckily, I hadn't put my heels on yet. I don't like to scoot in heels so I was wearing a pair of sneakers. I parked, kept my helmet on, ran to the drop box and back to the scooter. I rolled it off its stand and, as you already know, onto my right foot.

I was holding the handlebars of the scooter with both hands, my body slightly twisted to keep the hulk of metal balanced. I tried to pull my foot out. Nothing. I yanked. Wiggled my ankle. Maneuvered my heel. Nothing. I considered taking my shoe off but wasn't able to do so without my hands. I tried rolling the scooter a little bit forward but almost dropped it. I tried to roll it a little bit backward but faced the same problem.

"Sh*t," I said into the face mask of my helmet, fogging up the plastic. "You've got to be kidding."

I looked up. The main library in San Francisco is a haven for the kind of homeless people who don't look like they care to have a home. What they look like they care about (and what they can often be seen caring about) is getting high on whatever's being sold on the corner. The people I saw were not the kind of people I wanted to ask to help roll a scooter off my foot. Besides, most of them were passed out.

I considered calling Tiffany. Then I considered what she would say when she picked up the phone and heard me, slightly panicked, asking her to come free my foot from under the tire of our battered Vespa. In spite of the pain, I laughed out loud, fogging up my face mask again.

I glanced around again and noticed two men dressed in clean clothes walking my way. There wasn't time to be proud.

"Can you help me?" I called.

They looked toward me and then away. I lifted the face mask to give my voice some distance.

"Excuse me, can you help me?"

They stopped.

"My scooter's on my foot," I said.

They were very nice. They didn't ask how my scooter came to be on my foot or why I couldn't get it off by myself. They didn't even laugh.

Later, as I shared the story and we shared a sandwich, Tiffany and I did.