I skipped out of work early today to show the apartment* to (yet another) disinterested person. Which put me on the B-line at 3pm with ~25 or so of the shriekiest young ones I’ve ever had the pleasure of riding with. As we rolled into BU West I heard something, look up to see some guy my age making this roaring sound (really, imagine a lion) with this odd twisted face. I thought he had to be purposefully scaring/playing with the child-horde but then he was seizing on the floor, bleeding from his head and spitting up. The train stopped for about ten minutes or so as a few passengers and I held him still trying to keep him from further hurting himself while we waited for Boston EMS. The conductor of the second car came forward was completely competent and helpful, taking charge of the scene. While the situation was sad and scary, for him and by association for the rest of us who but for grace could been in his place, collectively this was the kindest behavior I’ve seen strangers exhibit towards another in our odd little isolationist transit dystopia. In a way, it was the nicest thing that happened today.
PS. The parents just called from New Orleans where their rental car was stolen and/or towed. Apparently the cousin of the guy who told them where to park drives the tow trunk that hooked them, brilliant. Graft, after all, is a necessary precursor to reconstruction.