Day 125

The bus to the ferry was fairly busy; every seat taken but also everybody had a seat. I sat around the middle, stuffy and sick from the motion. An elderly Sikh man got on the bus, and as he made his way through, not one person got up to offer him a seat. He approached the middle where I was, making his best effort to be polite - most elderly folk would give a sneer or two, in some sense proclaiming their right to a seat.

I normally always offer my seat to anybody who looks like they'd be happer in it than I. But suddenly in this case I felt an overhwelming social pressure not to stand up. It was as though the rest of the passengers were watching; I feared striking either contempt, or guilt, into all of their hearts by doing what they knew all along should have been done long before the elderly man got to where I was seated.
Such fear is irrational at best, but it dug deep. After a moment's hesitation, I stood up and offered the seat; he declined politely, I insisted, and he accepted. I looked around at at least 10 guilty faces. They hated me for it, but only because they hated themselves.

But, as I stood up I noticed that the ceiling hatch was wide open, offering a sweet cool highway breeze to anyone standing directly beneath. My motion sickness was immediately releived, and in spite of the fact I'll never see the man again, I made a friend.

Comments

notorious vjp said…
this is a good story.

i can relate greatly. the other day I was as a kite and in a splendor wandering down fort street and i by chance passed a seriously overweight girl, who was giving me this look that i've come to recognize as "oh look a thin girl [loath loath loath]"

i felt compelled, for some reason, to tell her I thought she was beautiful or something, because i had the self-righteousness to assume she may need a confidence booster, what with her overwhealming obesity, but i refrained and now having head your tale of seat offerings wished i had done so now.
1:27 AM
Anonymous said…
"They hated me for it, but only because they hated themselves."

When I read your story the first time, this line struck me as almost too melodramatic. Yet, when I stopped to think about it, and reflect on my own experience, it's probably true...

Small things do count.
1:23 PM
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