cissi's studio

This is an account of one of the sad stories I eye-witnessed in NYC.


It was midnight when we were on the R train heading back to Queens. We got two seats facing toward the end of the train. I sat down at the window seat to the left. Wayne got the aisle seat. To our right, I knew someone seemingly asleep simply from the way his/her sat. I have never looked directly to that person until next time I noticed him/her he/she was already on the floor. In a weird collapse-like position.

Lying a bit side-way but face almost down to the floor.

I felt odd. But this is NYC. How many odd things have I seen on the trains? A lot. Best reaction? Probably pretending nothing has happened.

While keeping my conversation with Wayne, I couldn’t help wonder what’s going on with the person on the floor. Thoughts in my head, my eyes darted around. It didn’t seem to matter to most of the people but I noticed a lady ~5 yards from us looking at this direction. We had a short eye contact. She was curious about this person’s condition as well but might have decided she couldn’t do anything so she went back to being herself. I think I saw the person’s back going up and down. I think he/she’s still alive. I think…

From lively Times Square to quieter Queens. Half an hour passed. Still, no one said a word.


Then, a man with a Target bag walked from the front end of the train (behind us) and passed us. Tall, well-built, slight unshaved beard on his chin. He noticed the person on the floor, turned around, and looked down. He observed him/her again and again. Finally, he spoke, ‘Has anyone seen this? Is he/she okay?’

He looked directly at me, maybe because I was the only one fixing my eyes at him this whole time. I shrugged my shoulders. I had no idea.

‘… still breathing.’ The Asian-looking man sitting in front of us said.

The man with a Target bag bowed down trying to get a better look of the person on the floor. ‘… Is this a man or woman?’

I shook my head. I’ve never seen the person’s face and it was away from us the whole time he/she was on the floor. With the hat on, I couldn’t even tell the person’s age.

‘A woman. Women’s shoes.’ The Asian-looking guy pointed and said.

‘This is not good.’ He looked genuinely worried.

‘… Don’t film me.’ He said sharply when a young guy behind us trying to take a video.

I called NYC home maybe because aunt lives here. But frankly I don’t know a whole lot about the city, the infrastructure, the policy, the protocol of the given situation, or even if they situate any MTA officers on every train. ‘Do you know if anyone on the train who can help?’ I ask the man.

He seems searching ideas in his mind. When the train stopped at the next stop, he quickly walked out. Noticing that the train stopped longer than usual, I knew he had done something.

After some wait, the man came back with an MTA officer. They tried to wake the person on the floor.

‘Ma'am, is it okay that we help you get up?’ The man with a Target bag said while shaking the woman gently on the back. No response. No movement.

The lady previously looking at this direction now approached us, seemingly wanting to help.

‘Are you a nurse?’ The man with a Target bag asked.
‘… kind of… nurse…’ I couldn’t hear her reply very clearly. I guess she probably had a little experience but not confident enough to handle the situation in front of us.

The officer talked into his walkie-talkie. It seems they decided to send an ambulance this way.

‘Do you think we can move to *** station? *** (some hospital name, I guess) is right there. It will be easier. I don’t want to hold everyone on the train.’ The man with a Target bag said. I happened to turn around right at the moment he said this and saw the man sitting behind me shooting a distasteful glance in the gentleman's direction and turning back to his newspaper. I could feel the silence snort he released and his indifference to the circumstance.

The woman on the floor still haven’t moved an inch.

No, they couldn’t move the train given now that the situation was officially reported. We had to be here waiting for the ambulance.

It's past midnight. We all know that. It's one stop away from home for us but I don't mind waiting as I witnessed this beautiful act in this soulless part of the city, where people stop caring.

Finally, siren rouse. We knew they were close. Several men followed the MTA officer and came into our train. They grabbed the woman up and took her out to the platform. Then, she moved. I couldn’t hear the conversation clearly at this point looking out the window. The woman crawled to the wall, sat there. Her hat covered all the way down to the top of her mouth. No wonder I didn’t have any memory seeing her face.

‘Oh god. This is going to be really bed…’ The man with a Target bag sat down, hand on his head, and said as if he just realized something.

A lot was going on out there on the platform. It seemed the woman was simply drunk, deadly drunk.

The train doors closed and we started moving again. Next stop would be our destination.

I rouse before the train stopped, walking toward the door, toward the gentleman. I said to him, ‘Thank you so much, sir. Happy new year!’ I was truly touched by this caring soul although the incident turned out simply adding another account to the countless volumes of NYC's drunk collection. I didn’t want him to feel bad or stupid about his heroic action and felt compelled to let him know that I was grateful to him.


Witnessing this has burdened me. It is sad. Not just the drunk woman and whatever her story is. I feel great sorrow. Not only our empathy, but our sympathy has long been washed away.

We are all hypocrites the moments we choose to protect ourselves and turn our heads away.

The man with a Target bag, to you, I tip my hat, for preserving the slight hope I have for humanity.