Dear Diary -
One weekday afternoon in 2013 I experienced –first hand- the melting pot that is New York.
I was on the ‘A’ going uptown when an Asian lady sitting directly across from me slumped over and began to slide to the floor. I got over to her in time to break her fall.
The car was about half-full. “Is there a physician in this car” I yelled?
“I’m a physician” I heard right away, and a dark-haired woman with a dot (a Bindi) on her forehead came right over.
As the train came to a stop at 72nd Street, she ordered two Latino boys to hold the doors open, and asked me and a black man to help carry her onto the platform.
The man and I got back on the train; the boys let the doors go and as the train started to move again, the lady began to come-to on the platform in the arms of the physician.
The four of us said very little as we went back to our seats.
But for those two minutes we were a community and the world worked the way it is supposed to.