Subway Series: Lost & Found

The subway is an overwhelming environment for the senses. There is too much stimulation to take it all in. The only way to shield yourself from the unnatural fact that you are herded closely together with a bunch of people you don’t know in a tube traveling at fast speeds is to read something intently or zone in to you iPod and ignore everyone and everything else around you. In the morning I am usually too tired to notice anything around me and just fall into the coma of my newspaper.

One morning I was able to get a much coveted seat and was deep into my ritual when suddenly a young woman tapped me on the shoulder. It honestly took me a few seconds to come out of my haze and respond. She asked if she could possibly have my seat because she was feeling very dizzy and sick. I told her that she could absolutely take it. Once she sat down I stood next to her (by the door) and started asking her questions. Was she alright? Was she pregnant? I soon began to realize that she was having an anxiety attack. Since I know the feeling all too well, I began talking her through it. I told her it was important to regulate her breathing and that we were almost over the Manhattan Bridge (close to the first stop in Manhattan). I asked her where she was getting off and if she was going to work. Once we reached Grand Street, she looked as though she was beginning to calm. Still, I couldn’t leave her side. I felt a connection with her. I have gone through what she was going through and I could not step aside and go back into my zombie routine like everyone else on that train. I made sure I stayed right next to her, even when the door opened I maintained my ground. When I got off at 42nd Street, I wished her well and was on my way. I thought about her during the following days and wondered if she was ok.

A week later, as I waited in zombie mode on the platform for the D train, a young woman approached me. She said she was the girl that I gave the seat to that morning last week. She also said that she wanted to thank me because the things I had said really helped her feel better and calm. It was very heartfelt. In the very compact span of time that the morning rush hour provides, I explained that I had also gone through anxiety attacks myself. She confirmed that she did have them on the subway once in awhile. Suddenly, the train arrived and we were off to our respective places in the car. A few days later I saw her again and I introduced myself. We spoke briefly again and when the train arrived we entered and put on our iPods and picked up our newspapers.

Over the past few weeks we have been having these brief “platform meetings.” I have been talking to her almost daily. Last week we even chatted all the way to Bryant Park. She shared the news of her engagement with me and showed off her ring.

New York City is a hard place to make friends. The last place you think that you will meet a potential pal is the subway. Sometimes if you put your paper down for a few minutes, you just may.