Don't Jump

I spend a lot of time in the NYC subway. In fact, the picture above was taken in the subway. 

If I cared enough to do the calculations, I've probably spent a fourth of my young life on the train. I've lived here all my life, so I am one of the many stoic New Yorkers you see. Babies screaming, couples arguing, strangers fighting, and homeless begging are a part of the noise I block when traveling. 

Every now and again I give change to a homeless person and always give them food if I can spare it. Once in a blue moon, I give a compliment to someone and, on the off chance that pigs are flying that day, I engage in a long conversation with a stranger. The only consistent thing I do on the subway is observe people. That leads me into my story for this week. 

Let me take you back to Tuesday, October 31st. 

Tuesday was Halloween. 

Tuesday was the day of a terrorist attack in New York City. 

Tuesday was also the first time, in a long time, that something I saw on the train shocked me.  

I decided to sit next to the couple who were dressed as Goldilocks and one of the bears. They were in the middle of the train car, so I sat down quickly, but upright as my back was hurting. I thought about listening to music, but didn't feel like reaching for my headphones. When I considered reading, I realized my book was right next to my headphones. So, I stared ahead. 

If you have never been on a NYC train,  there are train cars that are connected with metal wire. Each car has a door that connects you to the next car. If you step over the wire, you will fall into the tracks and most likely die or get hurt severely.

The train was moving in between stops and a man opened the door as if he was going to walk into the train car. Except he didn't. With one hand on the door, and the other holding the train to steady him, this man started to put his feet on the metal wire. For a second I was confused, what was he doing? 

"No one cares. I have to feed my family. No one cares, I'm going to die, No one gives a shit!" 

Oh no. 

There are at least ten people between me and the man. All of them were silent. Within seconds of me realizing what he was doing, I screamed as loud as I could, "NO!" It shocked him and he stepped off the wires and into the car. In a moment of pure adrenaline, I looked at the people around me and yelled, "Were none of you going to say anything?!" 

Everyone is shocked at my response and looks at the man begging for money. I gave him some change, and sternly told him not to hurt himself. The people around me started giving change as well. A woman offered her sandwich and he got upset at her and started yelling about how he needs money and no one cares. 

The train stopped. I exited the train, upset at humanity, because I should not have been the only one to tell him not to end his life. It took me a few seconds to see he got off the train as well and started yelling erratically, all while begging for money. Then he threatened to catapult himself off the train railing onto the tracks. 

It hit me. He didn't really intend on killing himself, instead he used a terrifying, emotional action to invoke sympathy out of people. It worked. I gave him money and was emotionally frazzled by the event. 

I was upset, how dare this man emotionally manipulate me?

Then I thought about it some more. I don't regret being that one person who said something, because what he wanted was acknowledgement. Even though he was obviously mentally ill, and in deep need of help, he didn't deserve to die. No matter his downfalls, he deserved one person who cared enough.

There he was, an older black male, in dirty clothes and in need of help. His life mattered just as much as mine did and if no one else mourned the loss of him, I would. 

It was a fifteen minute train ride, that turned into a life lesson for me. Humanity is inherently flawed. For a whole train car to not say anything as this man, threatened to kill himself, says more about the state of our world than about us individually. It saddened me because I knew multiple systems, including himself, had failed him in his life. 

If I know nothing else, I know that if I was on that train again, I would tell him to stop.

Everyone deserves acknowledgement.