Major action on the 8:43 today. We were docked in White Plains when a commotion suddenly broke out–metal clanging, someone yelling, several riders shrieking and jumping to their feet.
An elderly fellow had fallen at the edge of the platform.
By the time I got there, a crowd had surrounded the guy. Orders were barked as an Alpha Male took charge, and within about 30 seconds, they had the old gent on his feet.
He was portly and white-haired, resembling a handsome Larry “Bud” Melman. He wore glasses, a neat blue suit (alas, now a bit wrinkled), and a blue V-neck sweater, despite a forecast of 90-plus degrees on the day. He found a seat, the rubbernecking subsided, and the train ambled on to Gotham.
Five minutes later, the tweedy old fellow tiptoed into our car. He approached the Alpha Male who’d helped him, a 40-something in a blue suit, red tie and wing tips.
“Are you the guy who helped me?” the old fellow said.
Alpha Male removed his ear phones.
“I just wanted to thank you,” he said as the Alpha Male beamed.
The two conversed as to exactly what happened–the old gent said the doors closed on him as he stepped onto the train, pushing him into the gap. Another rider argued for the merits of a motion sensor, and all agreed.
“Anyway,” the old fellow concluded, “I just wanted to thank you.”