Mistakes were made

New York City meets Munich

January 18th, 2002 · No Comments · Uncategorized

Is this seat taken?

The Friday night commute home is always a very full train. Piscataway, where I board the train, there’s still seats, but not many. I walked back many cars before finally deciding to share one of the long bench seats with a guy engrossed in his GameBoy.

I could faintly hear the sound effects, but the volume was considerate, and its not like its quiet on these trains. But it was quiet enough for me to zone out and daydream about a screenplay I’ll never actually write.

I’m musing over some killer dialog when I hear a bang next to me. I look over and the guy next to me has dropped his GameBoy. I guess he missed his high score or something.

“Ungh! Mngf!” he says, staring ahead, eyes wide. His hands are still in front him, like he’s still holding the game.

Sometimes we all get too involved in these damn video games. I know I do.

Then his arms starts to tremble. Uh oh.

He slowly starts to lean over in my direction, and it’s clear his body his shaking. Noises are coming out of him.

He’s having a seizure.

I’m holding him up, and he’s periodically making loud noises and starting to drool. This is getting attention. The people around me, hearing the commotion, are taking notice.

“Could I get some help here? This guy is having a seizure.”

Someone with more of a clue, and more initiative relieves me. A conductor is coming over.

It’s official. It’s a scene.

I get my ass out of the way, since I’m useless. For a moment, I gawk, like the rest of the other useless people in the car. One conductor wisely suggests clearing some space out. Another conductor signals there’s a medical emergency.

It’s time to get out of the way. I leave my twitching seat mate in better hands, and head for the bathroom, to wash the drool off my hands.

The train lingers long at the next stop, as the paramedics take the guy off the train. Hopefully he’s alright now. Since I was now sitting in the front car of the train, I have no idea.

Epilepsy or overdose, who knows? It’s never dull on a train near Mr. Nosuch. Nail clipping, fires, and now this. From now on, I’m going to lock myself in the train lavatory, and I’m not coming out.

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