Jumping for Strangers: New York Subway Tracks and Heroic Acts

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you had to retrieve something from the dangerous New York City subway tracks? If so, you're not alone. I've done it twice, and it's a story that repeats itself in the bustling and often chaotic city of New York.

Once Drunk, Twice Brave

My first brush with retrieving something from the subway tracks was a little more impulsive. My friend threw a book for me to catch across the MTA tracks from the other platform, and I missed. No problem, I thought. I was quite drunk, but we both laughed about it afterward. However, as I navigated down to get back the book, I realized that this experience was a reminder that some adventures aren't worth the risk.

Another Chance, Another Jump

The second incident was more methodical and less celebratory. One night, around 11 PM, I was waiting for the 1 train on the Times Square 1/2/3 platform. It was late, but the street was bustling, as it often is on a Saturday night in the Big Apple. I was reading a book when a very kind woman asked me to hold her suitcase while she went to talk to the MTA people in the booth upstairs.

When the next train came in and I realized I was going to miss it, I hesitated. The train stopped for only about eight to nine minutes, and the idea of leaving the suitcase on the platform was quite absurd. But I couldn't abandon a stranger’s belongings to the rats. I decided to wait for the woman, at least for nine more minutes, to then bring it to the MTA office. Finally, she returned, and the only reason she hadn't taken more action earlier was that she had dropped her credit card about five hours earlier.

When I saw the shiny credit card poking out of the dust, I couldn't resist. It was a moment of impulse, a heroic act driven by my distaste for bureaucratic red tape. I called for help from a nearby friend who agreed to be my “spotter.” After making sure I knew which rail would electrocute me, I carefully stepped over the rail and retrieved the card. Two sets of hands helped pull me up, and I was grateful for their support.

The Real Hero

While I might not be a Hercules-like hero, I did help a woman who had been waiting for 5 hours for the MTA to come and retrieve her credit card. She was visiting from Taiwan and had a flight to catch. Her friend had left a few minutes earlier, leaving her all alone. In that moment, I realized the power of a small act of kindness. My heart was pounding, and in that instant, I had become something extraordinary.

The impulsive act of jumping down onto the tracks was foolish, and I've learned my lesson. But reflecting on the experience, I realized that society often needs these small, heroic moments. In a city where risks are often taken and fear can paralyze progress, sometimes it only takes a moment of bravery, driven by an altruistic impulse, to make a significant difference. Yes, I wiped off the dust from my work pants and was relieved to be alive, but more than anything, I felt that I had done something genuine and meaningful.

So, was I a hero or just an idiot in the moment? The distinction is often blurred. In this city filled with madness and unpredictability, sometimes the two are less distinguishable than one might think. I'm grateful for the experience and hope to continue making such heroic and kind gestures in the future.