33359 Day 140 pt.2

scariest_moment_of_my_adult_life?

preface to the story: we live in a rougher part of town...some people call it the ghetto (although i get really fired up when i hear non-natives, like myself, call it the ghetto. in salinas, it was always about the zip code: "oh, you're from the 93905?" followed by patronizing glances and concerned, furrowed brows. my wife grew up in the 93905 so i get a little sensitive about that now. same goes here in boston...don't call dorchester the ghetto, please, you'll make me sad and i might lose respect for you).

anyway, we do, in fact, live in a rougher part of town. i like to think of it as a place where people's brokenness is just a little bit closer to the surface than it might be in other neighborhoods. but that is not the point of the preface...the point is, we live here, yes, but it is still easy to live in a bubble and to be sheltered from the some of that brokenness. even living here, one has to be intentional about not forgetting all the bad stories that are being told around you. but, there are times when you cannot escape the reality of the brokenness in our neighborhood and that is what this story is about.

the story: at 11:30 am today i was waiting at the fields corner T stop for the alewife train. while i was waiting a man (mid thirties, caucasian) appeared on the ashmont platform directly across from where i stood (apparently waiting for the train moving in the opposite direction). he was struggling to figure out how to put on his back pack. because he was drunk.

he never did figure it out because a more pressing issue arose. suddenly, to the disgust of the seven or eight others standing with me, the man dropped his pants all the way down and started to piss on the wall. someone yelled a name in his direction and turned away disgusted. an MBTA official ran up the stairs and scolded him for his actions but, for reasons i still cannot figure out, did not kick him out of the station. it took him several minutes to figure out how to secure his pants again so they would not fall down.

finally, the PA announced that the alewife train was "approaching." the man on the other side exclaimed, "oh, s#!t i'm going the wrong way," and threw his back pack into the train well. everyone on my side surged forward in unison, several telling him not to jump in. he did think about it for a second, but then plunged in anyway after his bag.

at this point, i started freaking out a little. we are very near where the train enters the station, i think, and it might not have time to stop, and it is the time of the day when the trains are moving pretty quick, and suddenly the prospect of seeing a drunk vagrant get killed is a real possibility. i fully admit i questioned whether i could actually watch that happen and considered running down stairs until it was over.

the PA now announced that the train was "arriving" (you always get two warnings), and the man threw his bag into the path of the oncoming train and followed it again. he was standing right in front of me now, several feet down, and it was at this point that he actually realized that there was no way up. "help me up," he screamed.

i grabbed the dude's arm and pulled with all my might, but nothing happened. a good 200 plus pounds of dead weight. i was really panicked now...not only was he going to die, but he was going to die with his hand in my hand, and my arm might get ripped off in the process. i could see the train bearing down on us at this point. the driver could see what was happening and his ashen face communicated that he might not be able to slow the subway in time. "come on man," i screamed, "you gotta help," hoping he'd at least try to jump or something.

an older gentleman, african-american and probably close to sixty, came to help me. i could hear a young girl behind me crying and yelling, "ohmygodohmygodohmygod," over and over.

in a moment of genuine, life and death, panic the human brain does wierd things...here are a few thoughts that i had: should i let him go, jump in and push him to the other side? we still have time to do that. do i keep trying to pull him out until the last second? if i stay with this to the last possible moment, what does it say about me if i let him go and save my arms and probably my head too? how far am i willing to go to help this guy?

finally a third person, a tough looking african-american woman, jumped in and helped us pull the guy out right as the train stops directly in front of me. had we done nothing, he probably would have been ok, although that is very difficult to say.

the true hero of the story, as i found out after we got him out, is the woman who ran down to the end of the platform (about 100 feet away) and waved frantically to help alert the train operator that someone was on the track. without the extra seconds she bought us, the dude would likely have been squished.

during the 30-60 seconds that this happened, i have to admit, i was really, really scared. i was surprised at how strong my reaction was to not wanting to see someone die. the others who witnessed this, mostly young ladies, were visibly shaken and crying.

the momentum from pulling the guy up caused me to fall back and it took a second to take some inventory and get back up. my heart was beating so hard i though i would crack a rib, and my hands shook well in to the afternoon.

as i sat there collecting myself i uttered a half-prayer, half-profanity: "jesus."

the guy we "saved" look at me and said, as he was being escorted off the platform: "hey man, don't ever take the lord's name in vain in front of me again."

afterward: this is not a story about the crazy place we live. this is not a story about something steve did that was mildly heroic, or mildly stupid, depending on your perspective (to further make the case against heroism, i should tell you that there were a million other nasty thoughts that i did not share in the thought section of the story). this is not a story about dumb things people do when they are drunk.

this is a story about hiding. we, especially we who are privileged, have created a lot of strategies for keeping the mess of the world out. amy and i do it and we relocated to a messy place on purpose.

but no matter how good the strategy we ultimately cannot shut all of the mess out. an earthquake destroys a small, poor country. a drunk guy jumps in front of a train. a kid from a broken family needs a friend.

mess.

but also invitations to better stories...