To the guy on the train with the scar on his leg... it's beautiful - don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
This morning a man slid into the seat next to me wearing cargo shorts. His leg brushed up against mine as he settled in, which caused me to glance down from my book. As I did, I noticed a large scar on his leg that ran from his outer thigh down to his mid calf. It was really striking.
"That's a beautiful scar," I said.
"Yeah, right," he replied.
"No really, it's gorgeous. How did you get it?"
"Are you serious?"
"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"
"My scar usually freaks people out," he said, "most of them can't even look at it."
"I know the feeling."
"You do?"
"Yeah. I have a scar on my back from when I was a kid and it tends to freak people out. I think its pretty, but most people tell me its gross."
"Huh. Yeah, people suck."
I laughed. "So, how did you get it?"
"Well..."
We spent the rest of the ride into the city discussing scars, how we got them, what they mean to us, how they define us. How people's reactions affect us. I learned a long time ago that someone's reaction to my scar is all about them, not me. When I was a kid I had no problem showing my scar in public, even after a woman tried to insist that my parent's had burned me with an iron (my scar looks nothing like an iron, by the way). He still seems to get rattled sometimes and lives in the defensive phase, but he hasn't had his scar as long as I have had mine.
"If people's reactions to it still upset you," I asked, "why do you show it? Why not just wear long pants?"
"Because f*$k them, that's why."
Attaboy.
Our scars are a piece of who we are, a natural tattoo to mark an event in our lives. Our scars are part of what makes us us. Without them we would be totally different people. I can't remember a day when I didn't have the scar on my back, it has always been a part of me. I have added several scars to the lineup over the years, but that one is my favorite.
When I mentioned that to the guy on the train he said, "Your favorite?"
"Yes. I love that scar. You'll love yours someday."
"... I don't know."
"You will. It's really beautiful."
He looked at me for a long while, measuring me. "Thank you," he almost whispered.
As we looked at each other in that moment we saw beneath the layers, beneath the scars. We saw the people. It was an intimate moment between strangers that I won't soon forget.
I love most of my scars (a few still piss me off) and I am so interested in the scars of others. It seems to be a subject most people don't broach, don't want to know about. I won't stop asking about them, though. I respect it when someone doesn't want to talk about their scar, but most people seem to have no trouble telling the story. They fascinate me.
His fascinated me.
So, to the guy on the train with the scar on his leg... love your scar, man. It marks an event in your life that you are meant to remember. It has helped to make you the man you are today, it has helped you see people for who they are when they see it, helped you realize who you are without the physical part of you, the beautiful part. It has marked you, yes, but you live to bear the mark. You are more stunning because of it, not in spite of it.
It's beautiful - don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Communication Phenomenon
To the ladies on the train talking over each other... I'm impressed!
The train was unusually crowded this morning, so I was stuck in a 4 person seat, two-to-a-side facing each other. Not my favorite seat.
Three women joined me in the other seats almost immediately, chatting away, obviously friends. We all settled in, me with my book and they with their phones, two of them talking away the other seemingly texting.
It took me a moment or two to realize that they were not, in fact, talking on their phones - they were talking to each other. Talking over each other would be more accurate. Neither of them stopped to listen to the other, they just kept talking over each other, answering whatever the other one said without taking a break. It was amazing.
I have no idea how they heard anything the other was saying.
Every once in a while the third lady would pop in with a "yeah," or a "totally," continuing to text all the while, each time forcing me to suppress a laugh.
I realized after a bit that my mouth was hanging open watching this phenomenon of communication. I was only able to catch snippets of what they were saying, but they seemed to understand each other perfectly. I was amazed.
We were on that train for an hour and a half today due to delays, and they did not stop the entire time, talking over each other the whole way. It was insanely entertaining. A sit-com in the making.
These two ladies were oblivious to everything except each other and the occasional "whatever" from their peanut gallery friend. By the time the train landed in New York I was exhausted, listening to them had zapped me.
They exited the train before me, and I could still hear them going from the bottom of the escalator. I have never seen, or heard, anything like it.
So, to the ladies on the train talking over each other... I have no earthly idea how you managed it, but I must say, I'm impressed!
The train was unusually crowded this morning, so I was stuck in a 4 person seat, two-to-a-side facing each other. Not my favorite seat.
Three women joined me in the other seats almost immediately, chatting away, obviously friends. We all settled in, me with my book and they with their phones, two of them talking away the other seemingly texting.
It took me a moment or two to realize that they were not, in fact, talking on their phones - they were talking to each other. Talking over each other would be more accurate. Neither of them stopped to listen to the other, they just kept talking over each other, answering whatever the other one said without taking a break. It was amazing.
I have no idea how they heard anything the other was saying.
Every once in a while the third lady would pop in with a "yeah," or a "totally," continuing to text all the while, each time forcing me to suppress a laugh.
I realized after a bit that my mouth was hanging open watching this phenomenon of communication. I was only able to catch snippets of what they were saying, but they seemed to understand each other perfectly. I was amazed.
We were on that train for an hour and a half today due to delays, and they did not stop the entire time, talking over each other the whole way. It was insanely entertaining. A sit-com in the making.
These two ladies were oblivious to everything except each other and the occasional "whatever" from their peanut gallery friend. By the time the train landed in New York I was exhausted, listening to them had zapped me.
They exited the train before me, and I could still hear them going from the bottom of the escalator. I have never seen, or heard, anything like it.
So, to the ladies on the train talking over each other... I have no earthly idea how you managed it, but I must say, I'm impressed!
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Liquid Karma
To the guy on the train that purposefully spilled his coffee on the seat... the joke's on you, pal!
There seems to be a new trend on New Jersey Transit. People are going to new levels to try to make sure they get a seat to themselves, especially when sitting in a two-seat row.
Now, we would all be much happier if we all got a seat to ourselves on the train, able to sit more comfortably all the way to our destination. Most of us realize, however, that there are other passengers who may want a seat, and so we understand that the ride will be slightly less comfortable, but not uncomfortable, slightly less private, but by no means invasive.
Just people sitting in the seat next to us.
In the olden days, people would just pile their extra bags on the seat next to them to try to dissuade others from asking for a seat. It didn't always work, as those of us with a little hutzpah would wait patiently while they moved their bags to the overhead rack, or simply put them on their laps.
Or they would spread their dinner out next to them, eating slowly and deliberately in hopes that no one would dare ask them to move it.
Nowadays, though, there is a new trend: people are sitting in the aisle seat, purposely pouring some liquid on the seat next to them, and then sitting back to enjoy their private seat. People come along and ask to sit, only to be told that "someone spilled something there" in mock sympathy.
The first time I saw this I thought it was a singular event. The next time I thought that, maybe, it was the same person.
I have now seen this being done many times, and it's obnoxious.
Today, though, Karma got involved.
The guy got on the train, found his aisle seat, and promptly spilled some leftover coffee onto the one next to him.
The important thing to note, is that for the majority of the ride the train is in motion. The physics of liquids, especially when not contained, are varied and unpredictable. And he was wearing khaki pants.
There he was, smug look firmly attached to his face, eyes closed, enjoying his morning private seat, warning people away from the "spill."
No one said anything to him about this behavior, though I'm sure that many were tempted by the looks on their faces. We were contained.
The liquid not so much.
As we arrived in the city and stood up to leave, there were many twitters of laughter happening behind him. It turns out that Karma sent that coffee in the direction of his khaki pants, a long, brown stain emerging on his left butt cheek. He must have shifted at some point allowing more liquid to encroach his hind region (or Karma has more tricks up her sleeves than we realized) because that stain had spread to his middle.
I don't envy him the day he was about to have, how many times he would need to explain away the brown stain on his butt. I don't envy him having to walk the city in those coffee stained, khaki pants.
But... Karma.
So, to the guy on the train that purposefully spilled his coffee on the seat,Karma's a bitch, liquid Karma even more so. And the joke's on you, pal! I hope you'll think twice before doing that again.
There seems to be a new trend on New Jersey Transit. People are going to new levels to try to make sure they get a seat to themselves, especially when sitting in a two-seat row.
Now, we would all be much happier if we all got a seat to ourselves on the train, able to sit more comfortably all the way to our destination. Most of us realize, however, that there are other passengers who may want a seat, and so we understand that the ride will be slightly less comfortable, but not uncomfortable, slightly less private, but by no means invasive.
Just people sitting in the seat next to us.
In the olden days, people would just pile their extra bags on the seat next to them to try to dissuade others from asking for a seat. It didn't always work, as those of us with a little hutzpah would wait patiently while they moved their bags to the overhead rack, or simply put them on their laps.
Or they would spread their dinner out next to them, eating slowly and deliberately in hopes that no one would dare ask them to move it.
Nowadays, though, there is a new trend: people are sitting in the aisle seat, purposely pouring some liquid on the seat next to them, and then sitting back to enjoy their private seat. People come along and ask to sit, only to be told that "someone spilled something there" in mock sympathy.
The first time I saw this I thought it was a singular event. The next time I thought that, maybe, it was the same person.
I have now seen this being done many times, and it's obnoxious.
Today, though, Karma got involved.
The guy got on the train, found his aisle seat, and promptly spilled some leftover coffee onto the one next to him.
The important thing to note, is that for the majority of the ride the train is in motion. The physics of liquids, especially when not contained, are varied and unpredictable. And he was wearing khaki pants.
There he was, smug look firmly attached to his face, eyes closed, enjoying his morning private seat, warning people away from the "spill."
No one said anything to him about this behavior, though I'm sure that many were tempted by the looks on their faces. We were contained.
The liquid not so much.
As we arrived in the city and stood up to leave, there were many twitters of laughter happening behind him. It turns out that Karma sent that coffee in the direction of his khaki pants, a long, brown stain emerging on his left butt cheek. He must have shifted at some point allowing more liquid to encroach his hind region (or Karma has more tricks up her sleeves than we realized) because that stain had spread to his middle.
I don't envy him the day he was about to have, how many times he would need to explain away the brown stain on his butt. I don't envy him having to walk the city in those coffee stained, khaki pants.
But... Karma.
So, to the guy on the train that purposefully spilled his coffee on the seat,Karma's a bitch, liquid Karma even more so. And the joke's on you, pal! I hope you'll think twice before doing that again.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Rockin' Out
To the guy on the train that was rockin' out to his tunes... you put on a hellofa show, man!
While meandering down the aisle looking for seats, we all came to notice that everyone already seated was watching something. We could see them watching, looking around us as we walked by, and they were thoroughly enjoying whatever they were watching. Hmmm..
As we new additions to the car found our seats and turned to face the same direction as the previous occupiers of the car, we saw it too. In the end seat, facing everyone else, there was a man. His eyes were closed, his hair hanging long and loose, large, old-fashioned looking headphones in place.
And he was living!
He began with the air drums. In his mind he must have been on par with Neil Pert (Rush) or Keith Moon (The Who). His imaginary sticks were flying, he was groovin' right along, air-playing his heart out.
Fairly soon he seemed to switch to conducting, the sticks morphing into a baton, as he directed his virtual band, or orchestra, or symphony (from his performance I would glean that his imagination would create a fantastic symphony the likes of which can not exist outside his mind). The musicians in his head were obviously as enthusiastic as he, his facial expressions becoming more and more exaggerated as he directed the music and encouraged his vision to produce.
No one on our car was speaking, we were so enjoying the show, smiles on all of our faces. We weren't laughing at him, not at all! We were right there with him, our imaginations having been co-opted by his, trying to see as he saw.
Conducting naturally transformed into choreography, his entire body becoming a part of the dance. He grooved. He bopped. He got down.
It was mesmerizing.
He remained completely unaware of his audience, didn't feel our eyes on him at all. Or, maybe he did, and rather than be embarrassed he soaked us in, drew on our energy, to create his masterpiece.
I have no idea what he was listening to. No idea what his symphony consisted of, what his dancers were wearing, what the stage looked like... no idea of the depths of his imagination... but, man, would I have loved to have seen it.
He created with abandon, his joy and enthusiasm seeping into everyone around him. It was bliss. We were watching a passion piece, and we got to contribute a part of our own imagination as we tried to conjure his vision in our own minds.
As the train pulled into the station, and his mind was pulled into the now, he opened his eyes and, realizing that all of ours were upon him, offered a sheepish smile.
In response, we clapped. Many people thanked him. Most just smiled back.
Guy on the train, you changed a lot of people this morning, even if only for a little while.
So, to the guy on the train that was rockin' out to his tunes... I hope you get to realize your vision someday. I hope your imagination and passion can combine in reality, and I hope that they are with you, always. Keep dreaming, guy on the train, you put on a hellofa show!
While meandering down the aisle looking for seats, we all came to notice that everyone already seated was watching something. We could see them watching, looking around us as we walked by, and they were thoroughly enjoying whatever they were watching. Hmmm..
As we new additions to the car found our seats and turned to face the same direction as the previous occupiers of the car, we saw it too. In the end seat, facing everyone else, there was a man. His eyes were closed, his hair hanging long and loose, large, old-fashioned looking headphones in place.
And he was living!
He began with the air drums. In his mind he must have been on par with Neil Pert (Rush) or Keith Moon (The Who). His imaginary sticks were flying, he was groovin' right along, air-playing his heart out.
Fairly soon he seemed to switch to conducting, the sticks morphing into a baton, as he directed his virtual band, or orchestra, or symphony (from his performance I would glean that his imagination would create a fantastic symphony the likes of which can not exist outside his mind). The musicians in his head were obviously as enthusiastic as he, his facial expressions becoming more and more exaggerated as he directed the music and encouraged his vision to produce.
No one on our car was speaking, we were so enjoying the show, smiles on all of our faces. We weren't laughing at him, not at all! We were right there with him, our imaginations having been co-opted by his, trying to see as he saw.
Conducting naturally transformed into choreography, his entire body becoming a part of the dance. He grooved. He bopped. He got down.
It was mesmerizing.
He remained completely unaware of his audience, didn't feel our eyes on him at all. Or, maybe he did, and rather than be embarrassed he soaked us in, drew on our energy, to create his masterpiece.
I have no idea what he was listening to. No idea what his symphony consisted of, what his dancers were wearing, what the stage looked like... no idea of the depths of his imagination... but, man, would I have loved to have seen it.
He created with abandon, his joy and enthusiasm seeping into everyone around him. It was bliss. We were watching a passion piece, and we got to contribute a part of our own imagination as we tried to conjure his vision in our own minds.
As the train pulled into the station, and his mind was pulled into the now, he opened his eyes and, realizing that all of ours were upon him, offered a sheepish smile.
In response, we clapped. Many people thanked him. Most just smiled back.
Guy on the train, you changed a lot of people this morning, even if only for a little while.
So, to the guy on the train that was rockin' out to his tunes... I hope you get to realize your vision someday. I hope your imagination and passion can combine in reality, and I hope that they are with you, always. Keep dreaming, guy on the train, you put on a hellofa show!
Friday, May 2, 2014
It Takes A Village
To the guy on the train that brought his kids to work today... you rock!
Several of us noticed you strolling your two young children up to the platform this morning, juggling two tiny backpacks, your shoulder bag, and a juicy cup. Your kids seemed really excited to go on the train! You, however, looked a little daunted.
When the train arrived, several of us offered to hold some of your things as you took the giant step up onto the car. Once on the train, seating was scarce, so we rushed ahead to save you and your children some seats. We managed, but barely. We held off the commuters who couldn't care less about a Dad and his kids. We all shared looks of triumph when the three of you were able to sit together.
Once we settled in for the ride, your children were delightful. They sang us songs, played games, and asked good questions. You looked so grateful that no one was annoyed by them. As more people joined our car, they too enjoyed playing with your children. It was a lovely ride.
As we exited the train, several of us grabbed a bag for you, or a stroller, or even held a child's hand.
"Thank you so much, everyone. I really appreciate your help." The relief on your face was evident.
We were all happy to assist. Your kids were great.
So, to the guy on the train that brought his kids to work today... remember, it takes a village. I hope your kids enjoyed going to work with you today. Also, you rock.
Several of us noticed you strolling your two young children up to the platform this morning, juggling two tiny backpacks, your shoulder bag, and a juicy cup. Your kids seemed really excited to go on the train! You, however, looked a little daunted.
When the train arrived, several of us offered to hold some of your things as you took the giant step up onto the car. Once on the train, seating was scarce, so we rushed ahead to save you and your children some seats. We managed, but barely. We held off the commuters who couldn't care less about a Dad and his kids. We all shared looks of triumph when the three of you were able to sit together.
Once we settled in for the ride, your children were delightful. They sang us songs, played games, and asked good questions. You looked so grateful that no one was annoyed by them. As more people joined our car, they too enjoyed playing with your children. It was a lovely ride.
As we exited the train, several of us grabbed a bag for you, or a stroller, or even held a child's hand.
"Thank you so much, everyone. I really appreciate your help." The relief on your face was evident.
We were all happy to assist. Your kids were great.
So, to the guy on the train that brought his kids to work today... remember, it takes a village. I hope your kids enjoyed going to work with you today. Also, you rock.
Monday, April 28, 2014
Terrible Marketing
To the lady on the train that tried to recruit me to your "team"... your sales pitch sucks.
This morning I boarded the train as usual, sat in my seat as usual, and closed my eyes (as usual) for the trip to the city. This morning, however, I could feel her watching me.
My career in the performing arts has made me very tuned in to when people are watching me. I can feel their eyes on me, I can tell their attention is focused my way. It goes with being an actor, I think.
I cracked my eye to look for the source of my feeling, and I saw a woman sitting across the aisle, a few rows away in a seat that faced mine, staring. Not trying to hide it at all. Just... staring.
I decided to close my eyes again and just ride it out. I did peek every so often, when the feeling became unbearable, and each time I caught her staring. It was a bit disturbing by the end of my 45 minute train ride.
Finally, as we were in line to exit the train, she handed me her business card with a hand written note on it. She didn't say a word, just handed me the card. My naturally curious instincts had me taking the card from her and saying "Thank you" before I had looked at what I was taking.
As it turned out, I was being handed an insult, and I took it with a "Thank you."
She handed me an Herbalife card (for those of you that do not know, Herbalife is a weight loss system that costs an arm and a leg). On the card was written a note. Now, a good person would have said something like "Feel free to call me if you have any questions," or "I have had great results, you should give me a call so I can tell you all about it." Both of those are a bit insulting, but at least they are polite and a bit conspiratorial. A decent person would have said something like "I believe I can help you," or "You should give us a try." A little more insulting, but nothing I couldn't abide.
A terrible person would write what this woman did. As I looked at the card to read her note my heart dropped and I actually felt ill.
"You're too fat. You need this."
Excuse me?
I said "Wow, I'm really not interested."
She said "You should be."
"Lady, you don't know my life. You don't know anything about me. How dare you hand me something like this. I hope you have as good a day as you've just made mine."
She had the nerve to look insulted.
The woman behind me asked what she gave me, so I showed her. She hugged me and said "You are beautiful. Don't let that heffer make you feel bad." I almost cried.
The woman behind her hugged me too. Someone else patted me on the back. The gratitude I felt for those people in that moment can not be measured.
That this woman thought that it would be OK to hand me that card, with that message, hoping that I would call her to buy her products is astounding. How on Earth could she think that I would find that note enticing? What made her think that saying that would be the best way to get my business? What really pissed me off is that I said "Thank you" before I knew what I was taking. What an ass.
Not only did she ensure that I will never call her for anything, ever, she ensured that I will never use Herbalife. If a company has that kind of person representing them, I want no part of it.
So, to the lady on the train that tried to recruit me to your "team"... I hope Herbalife knows the kind of person they have representing them. I hope you experience, just once, what you put me through today, simply so you will know how it feels. You need never make any assumptions about another human or the path that they have to walk. It makes you an ass.
Also, your sales pitch sucks.
This morning I boarded the train as usual, sat in my seat as usual, and closed my eyes (as usual) for the trip to the city. This morning, however, I could feel her watching me.
My career in the performing arts has made me very tuned in to when people are watching me. I can feel their eyes on me, I can tell their attention is focused my way. It goes with being an actor, I think.
I cracked my eye to look for the source of my feeling, and I saw a woman sitting across the aisle, a few rows away in a seat that faced mine, staring. Not trying to hide it at all. Just... staring.
I decided to close my eyes again and just ride it out. I did peek every so often, when the feeling became unbearable, and each time I caught her staring. It was a bit disturbing by the end of my 45 minute train ride.
Finally, as we were in line to exit the train, she handed me her business card with a hand written note on it. She didn't say a word, just handed me the card. My naturally curious instincts had me taking the card from her and saying "Thank you" before I had looked at what I was taking.
As it turned out, I was being handed an insult, and I took it with a "Thank you."
She handed me an Herbalife card (for those of you that do not know, Herbalife is a weight loss system that costs an arm and a leg). On the card was written a note. Now, a good person would have said something like "Feel free to call me if you have any questions," or "I have had great results, you should give me a call so I can tell you all about it." Both of those are a bit insulting, but at least they are polite and a bit conspiratorial. A decent person would have said something like "I believe I can help you," or "You should give us a try." A little more insulting, but nothing I couldn't abide.
A terrible person would write what this woman did. As I looked at the card to read her note my heart dropped and I actually felt ill.
"You're too fat. You need this."
Excuse me?
I said "Wow, I'm really not interested."
She said "You should be."
"Lady, you don't know my life. You don't know anything about me. How dare you hand me something like this. I hope you have as good a day as you've just made mine."
She had the nerve to look insulted.
The woman behind me asked what she gave me, so I showed her. She hugged me and said "You are beautiful. Don't let that heffer make you feel bad." I almost cried.
The woman behind her hugged me too. Someone else patted me on the back. The gratitude I felt for those people in that moment can not be measured.
That this woman thought that it would be OK to hand me that card, with that message, hoping that I would call her to buy her products is astounding. How on Earth could she think that I would find that note enticing? What made her think that saying that would be the best way to get my business? What really pissed me off is that I said "Thank you" before I knew what I was taking. What an ass.
Not only did she ensure that I will never call her for anything, ever, she ensured that I will never use Herbalife. If a company has that kind of person representing them, I want no part of it.
So, to the lady on the train that tried to recruit me to your "team"... I hope Herbalife knows the kind of person they have representing them. I hope you experience, just once, what you put me through today, simply so you will know how it feels. You need never make any assumptions about another human or the path that they have to walk. It makes you an ass.
Also, your sales pitch sucks.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Small Heroes
To the guy on the train that gave up his seat... thank you.
Yet again this morning, New Jersey Transit was cancelling trains. The exact quote used in their announcement was, "New Jersey Transit would like to apologize... we were forced to cancel the 8:31 train to New York..." Forced. Uh huh.
When our normal train gets cancelled, they usually have the express train run local, which means, beginning at our stop, people are standing in the aisles. Today was no exception.
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We were all standing there, bracing ourselves for the rocky ride, dealing with the sighs and groans from the sitters, upset that their space was getting crowded. Every time we came to a stop the guy standing next to me stomped on my foot, trying to pretend that he was far more graceful than the evidence suggested. He never apologized.
In short, nothing new for a cancelled train day.
Then something awesome happened.
A man a few rows down from where I was offered his seat to a woman standing in the aisle. She was appropriately grateful. Then, catching the gratitude wave, another man a few rows away offered his seat to another woman that had been standing. And then another one! It was amazing to see; the men looked slightly proud that they had done a good deed for the day, and the women were grateful, appearing fairly surprised that they found chivalry on New Jersey Transit.
About two stops into the journey, a woman sitting a row away from me exited the train. The man that had been standing right next to her offered me her seat. "Would you like to sit here?" "Yes, thank you so much!" I said. He smiled at me. "You're quite welcome."
By the end of our ride another two or three women had been offered seats, with very little complaining from the men left standing in the aisle (I say very little complaining because it would not have been a NJT train without some blowhard being pissy about something).
It is so nice to see people catching a wave of courtesy and jumping on. I don't usually expect that kind of offer on the train, everyone so intent on getting from point A to point B that we barely see each other. The men that gave up their seats made a woman very happy, made her feel noticed. And sometimes, that is enough.
So, to the guy on the train that gave up his seat... thank you. You made my day.
Yet again this morning, New Jersey Transit was cancelling trains. The exact quote used in their announcement was, "New Jersey Transit would like to apologize... we were forced to cancel the 8:31 train to New York..." Forced. Uh huh.
When our normal train gets cancelled, they usually have the express train run local, which means, beginning at our stop, people are standing in the aisles. Today was no exception.
We were all standing there, bracing ourselves for the rocky ride, dealing with the sighs and groans from the sitters, upset that their space was getting crowded. Every time we came to a stop the guy standing next to me stomped on my foot, trying to pretend that he was far more graceful than the evidence suggested. He never apologized.
In short, nothing new for a cancelled train day.
Then something awesome happened.
A man a few rows down from where I was offered his seat to a woman standing in the aisle. She was appropriately grateful. Then, catching the gratitude wave, another man a few rows away offered his seat to another woman that had been standing. And then another one! It was amazing to see; the men looked slightly proud that they had done a good deed for the day, and the women were grateful, appearing fairly surprised that they found chivalry on New Jersey Transit.
About two stops into the journey, a woman sitting a row away from me exited the train. The man that had been standing right next to her offered me her seat. "Would you like to sit here?" "Yes, thank you so much!" I said. He smiled at me. "You're quite welcome."
By the end of our ride another two or three women had been offered seats, with very little complaining from the men left standing in the aisle (I say very little complaining because it would not have been a NJT train without some blowhard being pissy about something).
It is so nice to see people catching a wave of courtesy and jumping on. I don't usually expect that kind of offer on the train, everyone so intent on getting from point A to point B that we barely see each other. The men that gave up their seats made a woman very happy, made her feel noticed. And sometimes, that is enough.
So, to the guy on the train that gave up his seat... thank you. You made my day.
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