Good Samaritans

Thursday afternoon, I walked to work beneath a dark gray sky. The rain was looming. I walked out of my apartment, past Joe's Coffee Art Shoppe, down Gay Street, and it began to sprinkle. I turned down Christopher and crossed, and the rain became droplets of exploding water. As I continued down Greenwich Avenue, the clouds were melting quickly in the sky and I had to take cover. I stepped under the overhang of Gusto Restaurant--which has a great brunch deal on weekends--and stayed put patiently. The rain began lashing down and little puddles turned into flooded sidewalks.

I was enjoying this adventure. I appreciate the fact that I can walk to work and I use the same route and I can compare the experiences and their small differences. Little things, such as knowing when and where to cross the street, amuse my simple mind. If I cross Greenwich Avenue before Charles, I will run into a hundred PS41 children being let out of the playground, spilling into the street where their parents or nannies line and crowd the sidewalk. This small decision would stick me in the situation of bobbing and weaving through that chaotic moment where oblivious children run to find their parents without any awareness.

But on this particular afternoon, May 7th, I made the decision to cross before Charles toward the school to save myself from the crying sky and duck under the scaffold on the northern side of the street. I waited for the rain to stop pounding, deciding it would be best to make a move when the rain made the least amount of noise hitting the ground. When the time came, I went for the next closest overhang near a mother and her child tucked against the building tightly (I felt terrible for another mother, who was actually coerced into getting her daughter an ice cream cone from the truck outside the school--all I could imagine was soggy soft-serve ice cream). My particular covering was a small stairwell where a man was doing some construction; he congratulated me on my finding protection. I stood for a few moments listening to the rain and slowly contemplating what I was going to do and where I was going to go next. Surely, I would show up to work like a drowned rat if I continued on my walking journey the last few blocks I had left. The streets were flooded, the rain was spitting up from the puddles and, worst of all, the streets were filled with Umbrella People. I hate dodging Umbrella People because most people don't know how to properly use an umbrella. Umbrella etiquette is something many people have never been taught; neither have they acquired it through living life with any type of common sense. 

But there I was, considering to myself that I should probably always carry a five dollar bill, just in case one of those umbrella sellers popped up next to me in dire moments such as these (In New York, these men seem to make their entire living off of the rain, coming out of no where with a plethora of umbrellas to share with unsuspecting soaked pedestrians). And then, out of no where, a man came walking down his steps and said the most magical thing to me: "Do you want an umbrella?" He said he owned the bar upstairs and they had many abandoned umbrellas without anyone to use them. I offered to return it after work and he insisted that I keep it forever. Oh, what a kind miracle man.

Although this moment may seem small and insignificant, the gesture may seem simple and completely unworthy of this lengthy blog, but it is moments like these that make me appreciate kindness in people, keep my faith in the human race, and reinforce the idea that I must remember to give, care, and stay positive. Because in a city like New York, it is easy to look at the person across from you on the subway or sidewalk, and mirror their weary and seemingly annoyed facial expression. Energy spreads, so spread good energy!

Thanks for reading my small story. And I will let you know that I walked the rest of the way to work in the flooding New York streets happy and smiling, with only wet ankles and feet.

Also, I would like to thank the man who gave me the umbrella. He is the owner of The Greenwich Treehouse, and I went there with friends later that night to honor his good deed; it is a cozy neighborhood treehouse to visit. I heartily suggest it.