The Kindness of Strangers

On the train tonight, a snaggle-toothed, bedraggled crazy dude threw candy at me. Handfuls of hard, multi-colored candies, from about 10 feet away. Sat in a corner seat, grinning at me from behind aviator shades and a hat with dangling earflaps, as if Amelia Earhart had been a drunken, bearded, male bum, and also very generous with her candy. “You like these? Like these little guys? Want some more?” Then he’d stop throwing long enough to pop a few in his mouth. Could hear his teeth cracking on them from across the train. “Little blobs of joy in your mouth!” he said, and he’d reach into a crumpled paper bag and throw another handful. God knows where he got them all. And then he stopped. After an interlude: “Hey, you messed up? I’m messed up.” Well, now that was news. The funny thing was, he was so happy that I just couldn’t be mad. Annoyed, sure, but his ecstasy was kind of contagious.