Gotta Love New Yorkers

Saturday night I was passing through Penn Station when I saw two men running towards a staircase leading to an LIRR track.

At first I thought I was witnessing the start of a fight and got scared -- the running men were big, tough looking guys, and I was worried that mayhem was about to ensue.

But as I got closer and looked down the stairs, I saw that they were running to help a man -- who appeared to be in his 50s, looking like he was heading home -- who has just collapsed down the stairs. The men tried to revive him and, moment later, two cops bounded down the stairs, taking charge.

I stood and watched for a moment -- hoping, obviously, that the man would be ok, and wanting to be of assistance if possible -- but it soon became clear that my presence as either a helper or as an observer would be unhelpful. So I left, relieved that the situation was well in hand.

Most disturbing, in the short time I was at the scene, was that the man wasn't moving at all, moaning or groaning or making any noise at all, his eyes were closed and he was totally still. It may very well be that he had died. 

I hope not, and I haven't been able to find any information about this incident in the last two days. But seeing how this man's fellow New Yorkers, and the NYPD, leapt to his aid, trying to help and save him, gave me a momentary boost of pride in my fellow New Yorkers and this city and people in general.