You Don't Have to be Skinny to be Hungry

Disgruntled about a midday afternoon meeting in Manhattan, I sat consumed by my thoughts on the 1 train uptown.  The doors closed at 14th Street, (I need to get to 59th Street, Columbus Circle) when a loud, booming voice rose above the clatter of the subway tracks.

The majority of the people who ride the subway appear apathetic and cold, aggravated by the solidarity of their banal commutes.  I see foreigners board, chattering away in an unfamiliar dialect.  A business casual older gentlemen rushes on and leans against the metal pole right in front of me just in time as the train lurches forward. 

I immediately dislike him for some unknown reason, maybe it was because of his overly dignified looking salt and pepper hair or the smugness of his thick, black rimmed glasses.

The booming voice became louder.  A heavy set man, who claimed to be 28 years old and unemployed, wearing a plaid lumberjack shirt and dumpy looking cargo jean shorts moved slowly closer.  He stated his plight matter of factly.  No job, no food, trying to stay afloat, blah blah blah.  Aren't we all buddy.

Don't get me wrong, often enough I hand out spare change to the aspiring street musician, or a loose dollar floating forgotten in my pocketbook to a particularly down and out looking individual.  But I couldn't be bothered today.  I work in Staten Island and was inconveniently scheduled for a 1pm meeting on 63rd Street, smack dab in the middle of the work day.

I place my head in my hands, stroking my temples as if to say, don't look at me because I'm not buying any of this today.

All of a sudden the business man with the thick black glasses started to speak.  Oh my God, he's going to trash this poor man for not working hard enough to find a job, or for bilking the middle class for a dollar.  I instinctively become embarrassed for this unfortunate, unsuspecting man who appears to be the recipient of this angry man's "Holier Than Thou" tirade.

"Your hungry?" says the stern business man.
"Yes," replied the disheveled man.
"Are you willing to get off at 23rd Street?  I'll buy you something to eat."
"Yes sir, I would like that, thank you".
"Good, we'll get off the next stop."
That was all that was said.

I was taken aback. 

A large grin slowly crept across my face; I was instantly proud of this man, and disappointed by my own misconceptions.  This seemingly insignificant interaction boosted my faith in humanity and made me gaze differently at the myriad of faces on the train.  For some reason, these strangers did not look so ominous now.

I watched the hungry man and the business suit exit the subway doors together, and felt infinitely more fortunate for having a 1pm meeting in Manhattan than I did just 15 minutes earlier.