Packed evening subway train.
Black kid, maybe 20, reeks of cigarette smoke, tattoos peeking above the collar and below the sleeves of his sweatshirt which features a gaudy picture of a hip hop artist. He’s holding a phone spiderwebbed with cracks in the screen. He is seated in front of where I’m standing.
Says something to the 70-something year old woman next to me, who ignores him. Says something to me. I pull out an earbud –
Me: Pardon?
Him: Do you want to sit?
Me: No thank you. (I tap the 70-ish woman). This gentleman would like to ask you something.
(reluctantly, she tilts her head a little, careful not to look at him)
Him: Ma’am, would you like to sit? (stands up, gestures to the chair)
(she sits without a word or glance at him)
I pat him on the shoulder and reach to shake his hand. Another hand beats mine to it. I turn to see a man behind me who says to the kid as he shakes hands:
“Good man. I spent all morning trying to convince young men to give up their seats like gentlemen”
