With you in spirit

"advice on harrassing a subordinate" not "romantic advice"

One of the big sorting moments in the GOP post-Trump (...and maybe not just "post-"?) is going to be "Crank, Opportunistically Held Beliefs" and "Crank, Genuinely Held Beliefs"
And considering a lot of the worst hypocrisies of the GOP *involve* those beliefs...that's a huge potential fracture point.

For those of you struggling with substance issues, may you encounter random acts of kindness. May you reciprocally seize on those random acts of kindness like never before. Kindness is more pivotal than you can ever believe.

Twenty years later, I am happily still sober. Streak undefeated. Thank you to that conductor who treated me with kindness. Thank you for not treating me like a criminal.

For all she knew I was a jumper. Or someone extremely volatile.

Shortly after this incident I quit drinking for good. With full commitment. This experience was a major turning point, for me to understand how lethal alcohol abuse can be in myriad ways.

“Sir, there is a platform gap. You need to watch your step.”

I clutched to her hand and made the leap.

I never said a word. I never said thank you to that unbelievable conductor that night. Who knows what fate awaited, but I managed to get off the train at the next stop and float back above ground

“Sir, I’m calling for some help now. I just need you to get back on the train.”

I didn’t move.

“Sir, I’m gonna come over to you. I’m gonna give you my hand. Sir, I’m coming.”

I froze solid.

“Sir, this is my hand. There is a gap. Now take my hand.”

I unfroze. I took her hand.

"Sir, I just need you to get back on the train. Can you do that for me?"

I froze further.

I thought the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers would’a been pissed. The Assistant Train Dispatcher at my throat.

“Sir, are you OK?”

I said nothing.

“Sir, we are gonna get you some help.”

I stood there on the little lip of serviceable concrete walkway.

“Sir, it’s going to be OK.”

I froze

A sound.

A train.

A throttle.

Deceleration.

Brakes in Emergency?

Halt.

Vibration.

The master door controls are operated on.

Metrocards don’t get you access here apparently, the urban-x folks tell me. I remember hugging the very non-customer-facing walls of the tunnel with a combo of pluckiness and trepidation, the sort of “this isn’t really happening” moxie that spurs genuine adventure and also premature death.