The Freedom

While heading by foot to the Port Authority, the last few NYC blocks were over-stimulating as usual. I was assaulted by three-story-high blinking neon signs, aggressive hawkers trying to shove Broadway show and tour bus flyers into my hands, and food carts offering a myriad of choices. I blocked it all out and soon found myself walking through the terminal and into the long lineup for my bus.

After a long wait, we were allowed on the bus and I maneuvered my way down the narrow aisle, feeling lucky when I found a seat toward the back. Sitting down, an audible sigh of relief escaped me.

As the bus continued to fill, a formidable looking man boarded. He was tall and commanding, and carried an overstuffed briefcase. As he drew closer, I noticed he was very well groomed, and wore a long dramatic coat that he worked like a movie star or a king. He spied the open seat next to me, and I realized he planned to sit there.

Everything took a pause in that moment. I was sweating, tired, and frazzled, and although he looked fascinating, I was reluctant to engage.

Should I suspend my spiraling vortex of commuter angst to be present with him? I could always pretend to sleep and block him out. Maybe I should just say hello? Back and forth, back and forth my thoughts went.

Before I could make up my mind, he was standing beside my seat and looking right at me. Although he was smiling, his wide eyes were filled with tears. In a strong, clear voice he proclaimed,”Today the dictator, Mubarak, was toppled. Egypt is free! I AM FREE!”

As his words rang out, I felt my heart opening. I let it. My coiled armor of self-preservation unraveled. I watched as giant tears slowly rolled down his cheeks and onto his hands. Witnessing his joy, my eyes welled up and spilled over too. And my daily struggles, which now seemed so small, all washed away. Empathy was the winner that day.

He told me he was an ambassador to the United Nations. Educating me about Egypt, he shared its rich history and mythical beauty. He spoke at length about the government, and the plight of his people. He was like a bottle that had been shaken and finally uncorked, with a torrent spilling over. I sat and listened, a captive and willing audience. It was a ride I will never forget. I arrived and stepped out of the bus, absorbing everything that happened.

How fortunate I was that the man whom I considered ignoring chose to engage me.