humanity

I prefer to take the 3 train. I can get a seat. the lights are dim. and I'm less likely to slip on ice walking 1 block versus 3. but at 8pm, after a long day's work, I'll find my way home on any train.

as I climbed the platform stairs, I saw the 2 door open and knew it was either carpe train or get home in 50 minutes.

it's been a long year already. I just wanna read my book. get home. watch Oprah. call my Mahj and go to sleep. so when I walked into the conductor's car, and saw a man sleeping, head leaned all the way forward, I just turned my head and read my book. another drunk on the train, I thought, just another day on the MTA.

and then he fell. head first. smacking into the floor. and still, I was unfazed.

nothing about the situation made me flinch. made me feel pity. I was more concerned that my trance was disrupted. he had a hospital band on. left hand was wrapped in an ace bandage. and yet, I felt nothing. just thought of him as a vagrant. and as I watched the reaction of everyone around him, and of those whose feet he undoubtedly fell on, they were just as unamused as I. everyone wanted to go home.

a girl jumped onto the floor, in her white, down coat, and gently touched his hand. "Sir, are you okay? Sir, are you okay?" Wow, how polite? She referred to him as sir.

she pulled from her purse a shiny, stainless steel bottle and shared its content with him. He had asked for water.

before we even made it to Clark St, the conductor was notified. EMS was called. on the way to getting the care he needs. deserves.

I guess I prejudged his condition and determined that whatever it was that was ailing him was likely self-inflicted, so who cares? meanwhile, an angel, dressed in white, with down-filled wings saw nothing but a human being in need. It's good to see that someone out there still cares.

and when our train was taken out of service, the 3 was right behind it to take me, and my now guilty conscience, home.