Bullet for a target

New York is a target. Some days I feel like I am scrambling around, dodging the shower of ideas and personalities pouring down. Something mysteriously draws the best and the worst to Manhattan--and oddly enough, Manhattan so often brings out the best and the worst in us. I was reminded of this no long ago when I was rushing home from teaching in the Bronx. My students had been testy, and I was eager to crawl into our one-room refuge. I was day-dreaming about making it home, when i discovered that the train I had been on was being rerouted to the east side of Manhattan. Mechanically, I got off at the next stop, a busy station in Harlem. There I waited for a bus with a pushy rush-hour crowd.
When my turn came, i hopped on the bus, swiped my card, only to have it rejected. This couldn't be. I tried it again. Same result. I was incredulous. I tried it 3,4,5,6 more times, before the bus driver indicated that I needed to step of his bus (MTA employees are very possessive about what they move). I objected, saying quite desperately that I had purchased a monthly pass, and that I was trying to get home. The bus driver said even louder, "Sir, step of MY BUS!" I stepped off, and went to the end of the line, confused about the card malfunction. I sneaked back on, and sheepishly said, I want to try one more time. ERRRR. The card was not working. This time, I didn't need the driver's booming voice to tell me what to do, I dropped by head and stepped off.
But just as I did so, another passenger, a friendly Harlemite, said, "Hey, don't worry, I've got you, man." And with that, he took out his card and swiped me on. The bus driver muttered something and peeled off as I reached for a bar to hold on to. I was shocked--and quite embarrassed. I looked so foolish, dressed in my tie and jacket, throwing a fit because my card wasn't working, and here was this smiley guy in old sweats who pays my fair. I cowered in among the crowd and thought about what just happened.
Too often I misjudge myself. I hate to admit it, but I like to think of myself more generous that the strangers around me. I look around and too often I see people that I think could careless about what is going on around them. I have come to realize that that is what I do. It is shameful. New York City provides so many opportunities to be a good Christian and just as many not to be. It is humbling being on the receiving end after you have embarrassed yourself like I did.
What becomes of the small things we do--or don't do. In a city so stuffed with egos, can we sift through the smokescreens enough to see humanity as it really is: a frustrated home-hungry person who needs a simple gesture of kindness--a reminder that hearts are here in New York.