So, last night I was having a pretty tough day at the ol’ survival temp job and have been contemplating my life as of late. Despite whatever is going on in my life, I need to remind myself that the big bad city is still big and bad. Good days are cherished here, but despite what you think, the attitude of the city is really never going to change. You can get your purse stolen really easy if you aren’t paying attention. Someone could slam into you while you are talking on the phone, make it fall out of your hand, break it and keep on walking like nothing happened. With so many people on an island, someone is bound to get pissed. However, there are a number of people here in the city that are kind. Who actually open the door for a complete stranger. Who actually let you go in front of them in the turnstile for the train.
These people are awesome and their kindness genuinely make this place a whole lot easier to live in. Kindness is an extremely cool thing and when I see it happen here, it makes me happy. I’m that person sometimes, and I’m pretty sure that you are to on occasion. Having the craptastic day that I was having, I decided to buck the trend of my personal surliness and actually pay some kindness forward to others on my way home.
Entering into Grand Central to catch the shuttle (which is a complete clusterfuck during rush hour), I decide to let someone go in front of me to walk through the door. I get sideswiped by a bag. No worry, I think…it’s just crowded. I’m still gonna pay it forward, damn it! I keep walking and duck down the food court hallway to avoid the big concourse, which is just a big obstacle course of bags, tourists standing stock still while looking up and fast people running to trains. The food court hallway is a little saner, except the fact that you have to navigate two steep inclines to get in and out of it….but no matter…thinking about being kind just put me in a good mood. I’m smiling at strangers who happen to catch my eye. I’m getting smiles back….this is really awesome, I think!
Off the shuttle, maneuvering though the breakdancers and hoards of people trying to watch that big screen TV of salsa dancers near the Latin music store in the
Times Square Station, I cut down the hall to get on my uptown 1 train. I see an old woman with a pretty uncomfortable looking hump on her back struggling with an enormous dog crate. I’m far enough behind her to have been watching her carry this thing for a minute and she was headed towards the same stairs that I was going to go down to get to the 1. I look at her struggling and I think that I’m going to help this lady. I am going to make her freaking day. She stops at the top of the stairs and sets the crate down for a second with a really shaky hand. By the way that I was walking I actually ended up right behind her and asked her, “Can I help you with that?” No response. She just stares straight ahead with her hand on the crate like she had to gear herself up to move this honkin’ thing down the stairs. I look at the shaky hand on the crate handle and I ask again “Excuse me, do you need for me to help you get that down the stairs, Ma’am?” She turns around and looks at me and screeches at the top of her lungs “GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!”
I straighten back up, pretty shocked that she would be so bitchy and said “Sorry, just asking if you needed help” and walked my own way down the stairs past her. I wondered about her and if she was all alone in life or if she was just plain crazy. Maybe I just reminded her of her frailty and it pissed her off. Maybe I scared her with my office clothes. Maybe me being kind to her wasn’t something that she needed. It made me feel bad that I spoke up for a second, but I got over it pretty quick once another bag slammed into me right before the subway doors shut on my way home.
