urban compassion

The doors of the uptown 1 train open and a mass of people step out onto the platform at the 50th Street station. We behold a figure sprawled out on a bench. He's largely ignored but several of us do cast a quick glance over our shoulders -- without breaking stride -- to check if he's still breathing. Upon seeing the slow rise and fall of his chest, it's determined that he's merely passed out. A palpable sense of relief washes over the crowd... mostly because now we don't have to interrupt the remainder of our commute by trying to find a cop, or more elusive, a helpful MTA employee.

I need a vacation.