Saying Something

I have been riding the NYC subway system since moving here some 30 years ago. All things considered, it’s the best way to navigate this rough and tumble town. If you own a car you, you should be at least rich, or plan to live in it because parking is a female dog.

Riders are told that if they see something, say something. That is just a catchy phrase because snitches get stitches. The bold among us will video any activity destined to get many hits on YouTube. I suppose that is saying, something. I’ve seen drunks splayed out on the floor. Couple fights are common on late weekend nights. Once I saw a guy with a look that strongly suggested he wasn’t going to make it all the way home. I knew he was going to throw up so I sat a safe distance away.

I saw something the other day and I said something. I was seated in a car with no vacant seats and several standees. An older man just to my right was laden with several bags and a suitcase. When his stop came, he gathered his stuff and made his way toward the door. A guy standing in front of him noticed a stamped envelope laying on the seat. It looked to be a personal letter that was addressed by hand. I indicated it wasn’t mine and he grabbed it and headed toward the closing doors. He didn’t quite make it but managed to get his arm jammed through with the letter. He flung the envelope to the platform after calling out to the likely owner. As the train pulled out, we watched the man see it and break out an ear-to-ear grin.

I said to the guy that did the cool thing, “nice work.”

William Stephenson

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