Karma
On Monday morning, after my bag was stolen, I pressed the emergency button on the train, and the two driver/conductor people came back and essentially escorted me off the train. I was so exhausted and pissed and upset that I was (embarrassingly but not surprisingly) in tears, and I'm sure I seemed younger and (hopefully) more pathetic than I actually am. So much so that the female half of the duo gave me a hug and told me how sorry she was that it had happened. Her partner instructed me to wait for the police, and they prepared to get back on the train. We were down on the platform at this point, and I panicked a little. I asked if they had a phone I could use. M. Defarge was supposed to be just a few minutes behind me, and if I could intercept him on his way in, he could hop off the train and give me some money or something, since I had no way to get lunch or pay for my train ride home. Neither of them offered me a phone, but the woman reached in her pocket and handed me a $10 bill.
I ended up waiting for close to an hour for the police to come. A few minutes after the train left, I ventured up to the ticket booth and asked the agent if the police were supposed to meet me there or down on the platform. He was dumbfounded that I was even there; no one had told him what had happened. He offered me his cell phone so I could call work, and then gave it back and made me call my husband as well. He kept me company for the entire time I stood there waiting, and when I was done with the cops, he walked me down to the platform and put me on a train.
Yesterday I got off the train at my stop and a man approached me and started talking. I kept walking, like I normally do, and then I realized he was asking if I was OK. I turned around. He told me he'd been on my train on Monday and had been worried about me. He told me he always rides the same train and that he's going to watch out for me from now on--to think of him as my protector. Then he gave me a hug, which was a little more than I was looking for.
I thought of all of these people today when a young guy stopped me on the street on my way home and shamefacedly asked me if I could spare some change. He said he'd been on the El this afternoon and realized his wallet was gone. He had no cash or credit cars, and no way of getting back to the suburbs. He offered to give me his name and address, so that I could contact him and he could pay me back.
I've always been skeptical of people who give me sob stories on the street about losing their wallets and needing money to get home. And, yeah, he was a young, well-dressed white guy--I honestly don't know what I'd have done if he was a black teenager or a homeless-looking old man. But I pulled out my wallet and gave him my extra cash. It was less than what the CTA employee gave me, and anyway I felt like it was the least I could do.
I ended up waiting for close to an hour for the police to come. A few minutes after the train left, I ventured up to the ticket booth and asked the agent if the police were supposed to meet me there or down on the platform. He was dumbfounded that I was even there; no one had told him what had happened. He offered me his cell phone so I could call work, and then gave it back and made me call my husband as well. He kept me company for the entire time I stood there waiting, and when I was done with the cops, he walked me down to the platform and put me on a train.
Yesterday I got off the train at my stop and a man approached me and started talking. I kept walking, like I normally do, and then I realized he was asking if I was OK. I turned around. He told me he'd been on my train on Monday and had been worried about me. He told me he always rides the same train and that he's going to watch out for me from now on--to think of him as my protector. Then he gave me a hug, which was a little more than I was looking for.
I thought of all of these people today when a young guy stopped me on the street on my way home and shamefacedly asked me if I could spare some change. He said he'd been on the El this afternoon and realized his wallet was gone. He had no cash or credit cars, and no way of getting back to the suburbs. He offered to give me his name and address, so that I could contact him and he could pay me back.
I've always been skeptical of people who give me sob stories on the street about losing their wallets and needing money to get home. And, yeah, he was a young, well-dressed white guy--I honestly don't know what I'd have done if he was a black teenager or a homeless-looking old man. But I pulled out my wallet and gave him my extra cash. It was less than what the CTA employee gave me, and anyway I felt like it was the least I could do.
posted by Madame Defarge at 8:33 PM
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