The Kindness of Strangers

Ladies, I have some good news and some bad news.

The good news: despite many indications to the contrary, chivalry is not dead. 

The bad news: when it shows itself, it really messes with your head.

Case in point: I was on the subway this evening and out of the blue, someone gave up their seat for me. A man. A YOUNG man. I know! I'll give you a moment to collect yourselves.

Any NYC express train during rush hour is about as close to being herded like cattle as one can get. It's an unavoidable part of the day, especially for those of us commuting from the outer burroughs, but we manage. Some of us see a car busting at the seams with an overflow of people and yet still run towards those closing doors rather than wait another 3-5 minutes on the air-stiffled platform; some of us have become experts at the territorial-but-not-quite-Bruce Lee use of our elbows; and a few of us manage to put on deodorant despite our quiet contempt for those who breach the personal space that God designed to keep strangers away from our armpits. Whether it be an actual seat, a handrail, or a cushy spot standing with your back against the door, the subway is a daily turf war and it's everyone for themselves.

Of course, there are exceptions. I can't speak for everyone but if I manage to actually get a seat, I will give it up for certain groups: the elderly, the handicapped, children, these sorts. That is, if I haven't gotten to the point in the ride where I've tuned out everyone and everything but the book in my hands. In these unfortunate cases, I only realize that I should have given up my seat after the poor schmoe has been standing for several stops. At that point I want to offer up my seat but become paralyzed at my own stupidity of not having done it sooner. They'll probably mentally judge me. "Thanks idiot, you could have given my arthritis-suffering, gout-covered ass a chance to rest BEFORE I had one stop to go." This is the sort of mind game that I'm used to. We may not like the unspoken code of the underground, but we accept it.

But this evening, just as I had grabbed a respectable spot with unobstructed reach of a handlebar, a guy who couldn't have been more than 20 years-old, stood up, looked at me, and offered me his seat. I took it and said thank you. On the outside everything was normal and nice. On the inside, I was reeling.

Why did he offer me his seat? Did I look pregnant? (The knocked-up being another group that I will offer my seat to, although if you speak with these women, they'll tell you it is shockingly rare for someone to surrender a seat for them, and when it happens, it's usually offered by another woman). I had a "Nam"-eque flashback to another time I was offered a seat. My unfortunate choice of an empire-waisted shirt gave me the silloutte of someone on their way to a lamaze class (that shirt has never been seen or heard from again). But that wasn't it. I was wearing a slightly form-fitting top, he couldn't have thought I was pregnant. So what could it be?

Did I look sick? Did I look like continued standing might cause me to faint? I don't think that was it. I'm only 30, so it wasn't the elderly thing. I wasn't on crutches, I didn't have a kid with me, I wasn't singing with mariachi band or telling him that Jesus loved him, so why the hell did this guy give me his seat. What was wrong with him...or me?!  For the love of God what the hell was it?!!!

Then it occurred to me. He was being nice. A gentleman even. He offered his seat and spent the rest of the ride listening to his ipod and minding his own business. Maybe he was congratulating himself on doing his good deed for the day, or maybe he didn't think twice about it. I guess his mama raised him right. He was just doing something nice. I realized this...and that's when the guilt set in.

How hardened and jaded had I become that such a simple thing could send me into a spiral of paranoia and self-doubt? This was a moment. The fates were shining down to let me know that all was not lost. Not all commuters are driven by primal instincts to stake their territory. That it's OK to be a strong, independent woman doin' it for herself and still accept a seat offered by a gentleman. That young adults can be good for something other than annoying the hell out of us with their insanely loud ipods.  I should not have questioned it. I should have enjoyed it. I wanted to do more than just thank him. I wanted to tell him how rare he was and how he'd probably make a great husband one day. I wanted to tell him how his simple act showed me that there is hope for tomorrow! I reached my stop with warm thoughts of how this guy was going to go out in the world and show others the light with his selfless seat-offering and nonchalant chivalry.

Or maybe he's just from out of town.