“Not in here, not in here, not in here,” I kept repeating as I pleaded with God to hold off the vomit until after I could get off of the train. For not only was I in public (obviously) which is not the most ideal place to toss your sugar cookies from the night before, but I also happened to be on the most crowded Metro North train everrr–the day after Christmas, heading back into the city. [Forehead slap] I should’ve known. I’m talking people, people, and more people crammed into all possible aisles as well the boarding and emergency areas. Even the places you wouldn’t think could hold people, had people. And with every personal bubble popped and property line erased, we were about to get really acquainted with each other really quickly.
So, there I stood. Sandwiched between strangers and unable to steady myself from the dreadful sway of the train, I reeled back and forth and all around as the usually picturesque Hudson River and trees began to blur together like a watercolor painting by a 4-year old. “45 minutes? 45 minutes!!!” I screamed in my head. The 6-minute Westmont shuttle ride from Montecito Vons to campus was already bad enough, 45 minutes was an absolute absurdity. Furthermore, the thought of throwing up on my poor and unsuspecting neighbors with nowhere to go was also intensely mortifying.
“Next stop: Grand Central Station,” I at last heard the muffled voice of an angel say.
I exhaled with relief as the train entered the familiar enclosure of Grand Central and my desperate prayers transitioned into, “Just get me off, just get me off, just get me off…” DING! The flimsy double doors slid open, and with a spirit of jubilation, I quickly assimilated into the mass exodus from Track 34. I then proceeded to make it a mere 12 feet out of the doors before nausea completely overwhelmed every fiber inside of me, and I realized there was no way I was going to make it into the station. I had to sit down, so I did, right there, in the tunnel, on the floor, criss-cross apple sauce style while hundreds and hundreds of people continued to pour out of the cars and scoot around me as they headed for the exit (I did move to the side, for the record).
And there I sat. With my head in my hands, I wanted to throw up.
Then, much to my surprise, out of the endless flood of holiday commuters knelt someone by my side, genuinely concerned and wanting to help.
“WOW,” I marveled to myself…touched by the kindness of a stranger, amazed by the impact of a single deed, and convicted by its lesson…
…that there on the grimy New York ground and amidst the people people people people people people people people people people “Hey there…” people people people people people people people “Are you okay?” people people people people people eye contact people people people people people people people people people people people people people people people “Can I help you out in any way?” people people people people people people people smile people people people people people people authenticity people people people and more people, I felt LOVED.
LOVE. Not as in the mushy gushy, Hollywood-manufactured, where-is-my-Prince-Charming-at kind of love but rather the kind that comes in the simple acknowledgement of one another’s humanity. The kind of love that would have a King kneel with beggars and wash the feet of His own servants.
Now, I was able to make my way into Grand Central (and sat on that floor for a bit) and eventually returned to Brooklyn in good health. Still all the while home and even up until this point, I’ve been reflecting on why this episode has struck me as strongly as it did. And in the end, I suppose I don’t have a conclusion so much as I do a greater appreciation for the little acts of kindness that have the power to turn yucky moods into good moods and awkward experiences into deeply-contemplated blog entries. Sooooo, that’s it. That’s all I got, but I’m thinking a smile and kind gesture are all I really need in order to begin to making a difference.

