A River To Cross With Limited Bridge Access, And A Long Walk Back, Rescued By A Heart-Felt Bridgeport Cap

How was your Saturday? This was mine.

It’s 1 p.m. and I’m famished. The tasty thing about where I reside, The August at Steelpointe Harbor, 55 East Main Street, I can walk to all my favorite eateries Downtown.

I access Downtown from the Stratford Avenue Bridge portion of Route 130, over the Pequonnock River, that’s concluding, hopefully end of this month, roughly $40 million upgrades managed by CT Department of Transportation.

At times the bridge has been completely shut down to traffic and sidewalk pedestrians, requiring a circuitous route to the East Washington Avenue Bridge to cross the river.

On Saturday it was shut down to everything, work crews at the ready, a sign “sidewalk closed” screaming in my face. Safety first.

Great. Now what?

That meant a very long walk to my destination across the Pequonnock River or back to the garage to fetch my wheels. So, I’m at the corner of Stratford Avenue and Kossuth Street pondering my navigation back to my vehicle. A guy pulls up in a blue, taxi-like vehicle emblazoned Kiddie Kabz, that I would learn provides school transportation for young people, but on Saturday a different role.

“You wanna go across the bridge? Don’t worry, get in, this is a free service provided by the city when the bridge is closed.”

Another man was also on the corner and he jumped into the car.

“My fourth time using this. It’s great.”

A married couple also flagged the vehicle. And then another man as well. Five passengers with the driver.

Shows you what I know. They knew about this service and I did not because they are local institutional pedestrians that regularly cross the Stratford Avenue Bridge, the closest artery to the busy Downtown train station.

So we traveled onto Kossuth Street and a serpentine this way and that way, molasses gumming up the wheels from the rerouted traffic on the East Side. Jesus, it was like a Manhattan traffic jam, horns ablaze, where I lived for a few years. It took about 25 minutes to drive a rerouted one-plus mile across the East Washington Avenue Bridge, in favor of about a half mile walk had the Stratford Avenue Bridge been open to pedestrians.

All the passengers jumped off at the train station to visit friends down the line, as I did, except I schlepped the short walk to Ralph N Rich’s on Main Street. The driver says we have two cars in the area to provide rides.

I settled in, a half dozen oysters, cavatelli and broccoli, gin and club soda, espresso with a splash of Bailey’s.

It’s about 3 p.m. and I’m ready to head back. Yes, I could have called a ride share but what the heck I walked by the train station in case Kiddie Kabz was around.

Nope.

Okay, guess I have a long walk across the river. But, first I went back to the scene of the Stratford Avenue Bridge work in case it was reopened to pedestrians, a police sentry on the scene. I gave the officer in the car the thumbs-up sign for bridge access. He gave me the thumbs down.

Fine, I got this. I walked on Water Street toward the East Washington Avenue Bridge, within a minute or so a Kiddie Kabz swooshed by me. I waived and ran, “run Forrest run.” At 68 larceny in my heart, lead in my feet.

From Water Street I walked past the gulf that is the Congress Street Bridge, the city Fire Department headquarters at water’s edge. Now, I’m thinking 11 freaking years and the Ganim administration’s return can’t figure out a way to build a new structure that’s been vacant for nearly 30 years. Yadda, yadda, yadda, I know it’s expensive, but this is really messing with my access chi. It would be faster to swim across the river, then trek across the East Washington Avenue Bridgeport which I did.

I hook a right on Knowlton Street passing an earthy mix of car shops, junk yards and tire centers. Where Knowlton, William and Pulaski Streets come together squares Pleasant Moments and now I’m wondering: what do they serve there? Well, adult entertainment. As for me, any place with a bar can’t be all bad. But, I pass entry to continue my return home. It’s a busy street intersection with a security person navigating traffic.

He spies me, apparently thinking I look out of place, “Dude, you’re not from the hood.”

“You’re Black, I am White, let’s split the difference and pretend I’m blend-in Brown,” I say.

He took pity on me with a chuckle. “That hat will save you.”

My hat, purchased Downtown at Jimmy’s features a Bridgeport logo with a heart. I wear it everywhere now, even in the suburbs where I hope it annoys people. In the streets of Bridgeport I am asked where they can fashion such a hat.

I continued my journey to gritty Pulaski Street to eventually Kossuth, underneath I-95 and my beckoning home The August at Steelpointe Harbor, a 30-minute walk, what would have been half that time if Stratford Avenue Bridge accessible.

That’s the thing about Bridgeport, it never disappoints for its diversity.

And if you feel out of place, wear a Bridgeport cap.

It might just save you.