The kindness of strangers

London bus
Originally uploaded by E01

Yesterday, at the opposite ends of the day, I saw two things that reminded me London is not simply a giant, inhumane metropolis… and shamed me a little too.

In the morning, a youth got on the bus with an invalid pass and a viable explanation that he was waiting for a new one – he also gave the driver plenty of lip and attitude, being all of about 10 years of and “hard as nails,” as we used to say round my way when I was a child. So the driver pulled over and turned off the engine, and refused to move until the boy got off the bus. After five minutes or so, patience wore thin among the passengers and people started shouting at the boy to get off. This made ‘old toughie’ dig in all the more, with a glare of defiance. At this point, in the midst of shouts of “Come on!” and “Get off!”, something happened that really made an impression on me as the right and proper way to go about things – a lady with a strong northern accent began to reason with the boy in a kind and rational way, treating him as an equal and appealing to his better name to “Do us all a favour, we understood, but it wasn’t our fault”. The boy dismounted, with a little more grace. It was so well-handled. She was kind, polite, firm, without being condescending or overbearing. Too often, we look at these tough kids and just see trouble. I guess the kindest thing would have been for the driver to just let him on in the first place, or for someone to stump up the fare, but I was impressed.

In the evening, returning from class on the Central Line, I looked up from my book and at the far end of the carriage, a young woman with a red sequin Stetson was softly weeping to herself. Most people looked away, and I confess, I assumed she was drunk – but some young women near her offered her tissues and a friendly ear. It turned out a song on her iPod had triggered memories of her recently deceased father. I was shamefaced and so impressed with those ladies who saw beyond the sequin Stetson to the fellow human in distress.

I think what I am taking away from this is that I must try to overcome that peculiar London conditioning which says ‘look away for self-preservation’ in favour of seeing human beneath, before I become too hardened by big city life.