“Please Sit Here” By Jennifer Choi
It was Sunday evening, one of the most hectic times at the subway station. There was a long queue in front of the screen doors as everyone, indifferent towards one another, waited for the subway train to arrive.
Once the door opened, the train turned into a battlefield; the passengers pushed and bump
ed into one another while gripping smartphones with one hand and carrying their possessions with the other. I negotiated with the mob as I weaved my way into the train and looked for an empty seat. Fortunately, I found one. It was the last one—all seats were occupied.
A few minutes later, the train arrived at the next station. All doors opened to take in another massive group of passengers. Again, people scrambled inside and scanned for vacant seats. None were available, and everyone had to stand holding on to the safety handles that hang from the metal bars. Then, I noticed a middle-aged passenger with a noticeable limp. He hobbled, shifting his weight from one leg to another as he took small steps and looked for an unoccupied safety handle.
Not knowing how to react, I observed the other passengers for clues. Some seemed to pretend as if they had urgent matters that required their immediate attention. Others scrolled and texted on their phones. Still others rummaged through their bags, appearing as if they were trying to find some important items or even looked the other way. All of them seemed to evade making eye contact with the man.
After scanning the atmosphere, I also avoided making eye contact with the man, for it would make me feel responsible for helping him and obliged me to give up my seat. Instead, I pretended as though I was dozing, keeping my eyes shut mostly but opened a sliver to keep my eyes on him.
While I covertly made sure that he was “okay,” he struggled to maintain his balance each time the train took a sharp turn. I desperately hoped that someone would help him so that I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty for not helping him.
There were several reasons for my responses. I didn’t have the courage to get up from my seat, approach a stranger, and offer him my seat. I still felt like a kid, a sixth grader who was in elementary school and felt uncomfortable drawing attention. I also felt that helping him was not just my responsibility as there were a lot of passengers. Moreover, frankly, it didn’t do me any good to yield my seat to a total stranger.
Then, surprisingly, a frail-looking elderly woman with gray hair stood up from her seat and said to the man, “You can sit here.” The deep wrinkles on her face became even more defined and pronounced as she smiled at the man. She was at least in her 70s.
Why her?
I gazed at the crowd and then at the elderly woman who was now standing and grabbing onto a safety handle.
Looking at the woman, I felt a sense of appreciation and guilt. I was grateful to have witnessed her warm gesture of benevolence and felt foolish to have looked for reasons not to help the man. I realized that lending a hand to someone in need requires no courage or reward. Rather, it was a small role that I had to play to make the world a warmer place. I took my first step by beginning with the elderly woman.
I immediately called her and made a request, “Please sit here.”