Ok here's another subway story - another true story without the condiments of embellishment. A week ago today I decided to take another subway ride. Nothing out of the ordinary - just to go and meet a friend of mine for a few drinks on a Friday night. I get down to the platform of the Main and Danforth station and take my place to wait for the next westbound train.
Through my pensive boredom I notice a tall lanky middle aged man bobbing and weaving to the tune of some strong but unknown narcotic. This guy is high, sky-high, higher than the moon or the CN Tower. He is mumbling a little bit and making eye contact with things hovering invisibly above and around him. The man is a little grimy looking, but not destitute. He is sporting a three quarter length military coat covered in a green camouflage pattern, bluejeans and hiking boots.
On most occasions I am fascinated by such characters and spend a good part of my down time gazing at them. They seem to pop up in the strangest of places and populate the entrails of the Metro system. I took my place a little further from him - out of his line of sight, and kept my eye on his every move. He did his contortions and gestures pretty much keeping to himself for a good five minutes and then something changed. A switch went off, a light came on, his milk spilled, or maybe his brain just exploded.
At once the man tensed and held his arms at his side. His spine straightened and his head wobbled wildly, like that of a freshly killed bird. I raised an eyebrow, tuned in my focus on him, and just as I got a perfect angle of view he catapulted himself out and off of the subway platform and landed flat on his face with his arms still fastened to the side of his body. His form raised into the air like a salmon would spring out of a river and waggle upwards to its destination.
Then in what seemed like an hour of silence we all gazed at him laying still on the tracks. His nose and forehead were covered with the black carbon that blanketed the floor of the pit that had consumed him. He kept his body rigid and just moved his head. It was as if he had been bound or mummified and could only move his scull to try and access his "situation".
I viced my teeth into my bottom lip and gazed at the dream-like scene. There was a live man laying across the subway tracks and for sure the train would be here any minute and squash him. For sure I would see him get cut into three. He would turn inside out in front of me and everyone else on the platform while we stood there frozen and watched.
The man stood and looked around. It worked out that his shoulders were level with the top of the platform that we stood on so when he came over to the edge just his head popped over the top. A young man hurried over to help him up and onto the platform but struggled a few times with his weight so I unconsciously ran over and grabbed his other arm to help hoist him up and out of harm's reach. As we got him half way up there was a loud clang against the tracks and to my astonishment a large silver meat cleaver bounced off of the tracks and into plain sight.
A young woman screamed "Oh my God He has a butcher knife!" We were still holding the man and finished heaving him up onto the platform. I swallowed a dry panic and backed away from him. "I. I dropped something." The man gestured to maybe jump back down onto the rails but the light of the oncoming train was in sight. The young woman spoke again. "No you didn't drop anything, there's nothing there."
The man looked around and then broke into a run away from the platform and up the stairs.
After the train had stopped a few of us went to speak to the operator and the cops showed up to take descriptions. The train was delayed and I had to spend time discussing the events with the police. The cops were rude and impatient.
So the moral of this true story is this. No more mister fucking nice guy good Samaritan help the world save you from yourself bullshit attitude from me anymore. If you want to jump off of a fucking cliff go ahead and do it because who knows what's on your mind and what you will do if I do help you. No not me I don't need a meat cleaver lodged in my scull because I helped pull you off of the subway tracks. If you want to jump be my fucking guest.
