Yesterday I experienced one of those moments where a quick decision was in order, but I felt frozen in my ability to make one, which has resulted in this post. As anybody in the city yesterday can attest, it was pretty wet outside in the morning with a consistent drizzle. I needed to head to Brooklyn to take care of some business so I caught C Train at 14th Street.
When I boarded the train, the car had about 20 people on it, including a businessman dressed in his fancy suit and tie sitting across from me. At the next stop, West 4th Street, most of the people left the car, many of which walked across the platform to board the A Train which pulled in to the station at the same time (The A Train runs express). The gentleman in the fancy suit got up and made his way to the A Train across the platform, at that moment, I saw that he left his umbrella behind. I had such a split moment to call out to him to alert him of his umbrella sitting on the bench across from me, but instead I froze. Seconds later the doors closed, and both trains left the station. I sat there with only about three people on the car thinking to myself that I should have taken action, and now this poor gentleman is going to get to his destination and come up the the street with no protection from the rain. When the car reached Spring Street, it completely emptied out, and I sat there riding in the empty car thinking about what I had done. Riding to Canal street alone, I pondered the situation, thought about the realities of Lost and Found at the MTA, and knew there was no chance that he would ever see his umbrella again. I felt sadness and guilt for not taking action, real guilt. But then as the train pulled into Canal Street, I decided I had to not beat myself up over it and let it go.
At Canal Street, the car remained empty until a brief moment just before the doors closed when a nicely dressed woman got on the train. She looked at the umbrella then sat next to it. Having decided to move on, I felt compelled to pull my camera out and take a picture of the emptiness (above) of the train car, which is somewhat rare at 10:45 AM on a weekday in Manhattan. It was as I was taking the picture above when the woman across from me noticed what I was doing and immediately said "This doesn't happen often, does it? I can see why you want to capture it". I looked over at her, smiled and nodded. She picked up the umbrella and began looking at it. She then said to me "Do you need an umbrella?" I replied "No thanks, I have one in my bag". She then promptly looked it over again (it was a pretty nice one), and then put it in her bag, even though she was already carrying her own umbrella.
I immediately though, you thief! That's not yours to take!
I was truly shocked for a moment. While I had no idea what I expected to actually happen to the umbrella, it hadn't even occurred to me that somebody would come along and take it for themselves. Perhaps some of the reason I felt that way was because I had seen the actual owner. Or, perhaps it was because I continued to feel as though I should have done something. Then I thought about times in the past when I have encountered items left behind, and how I reacted.
I remember several years back, coveting a lovely stripped scarf at The Gap, but being on a tight budget, I had to pass it by ($30.00 is a lot of money to me for a scarf). A week later, walking along a downtown street (in Chicago) after a snow storm, there was the same scarf hanging on a fence. It looked as though somebody dropped it, and then somebody else picked it up and put it on the fence to be found. I could tell by the mud on it, it had been there for hours, and thought to myself... Now I get to have that scarf I couldn't afford. I took it home, washed the mud from it, and then every time I wore it, I felt a tinge of guilt because I couldn't help but think that somebody was wandering up and down the street looking for the scarf. I ended up not wearing it after a couple of weeks, and later it wound up being donated to charity.
I am not saying that the woman was wrong for taking the umbrella, if she didn't take it, somebody else would have. Or, it would have ended up with tens of thousands of others in some lost and found somewhere. But for myself, I know it is not a choice I would make. Like that scarf, I would always know it really wasn't mine.
I didn't write this post to be all uppity and moral, because I have had my fair share of failings in life. But I do find it interesting that I can observe how I feel about something when such a quandary arises. I also know that I shouldn't feel guilty about not speaking up when the gentleman left his umbrella behind, it all happened so quick, I just froze. While I cannot be responsible for everybody else, that doesn't mean that I shouldn't try a little harder.
Oh, and about that woman that took the umbrella... I felt a tiny bit of schadenfruede in the matter. After crossing under the East River and arriving at High Street in Brooklyn, she realized she was no longer in Manhattan and panicked to jump off of the train so she could catch a train back. I hope she enjoys her new umbrella.
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