The subway car's door opened and a woman got on with her two children. She then approached a passenger with questions on how to get to her destination.
It was the weekend and due to track work, the normal train wasn't running and the substitute train was running via the East side as opposed to the West.
Realizing she needed to figure out where to make the necessary connections to get back on track, she came over to my side of the car and started consulting the electronic strip map.
She was carrying a young boy-- about three years of age --, and they were followed by another little boy who looked about 6 or 7. She tried to get both boys to sit on the seats below the map, but the seat next to where she wanted them had debris on it and they refused. The younger of the two actually had no interest in sitting. He insisted on being held. After several attempts to convince him otherwise, she picked him up and went back to perusing the strip map.
The older child decided to sit somewhere else and on his way stumbled into another seated passenger. The only indication that contact had been made came from the physical impact of the stumble. Otherwise, the boy continued on as though nothing had happened and settled down in the seat next to the man he'd run into. As this all took place behind her back, while she was still looking at the map, the mother wasn't aware of what had transpired. It wasn't until another passenger addressed the boy that she glanced over her shoulder.
In preparation to exit at the next stop, the passenger who spoke got up and made his way to one of the car's doors.
"You should say excuse me." He made eye contact with the boy, his tone gentle but firm.
The boy, surprised into a confused smile, looked up at him in silence.
"You should apologize and say, 'Excuse me,'" the man repeated. Gesturing towards the seated passenger, "You ran into him."
During the exchange the mother kept shifting her attention between the standing passenger, and her son. She didn't intervene-- just quietly watched how it would unfold.
Shyly, and with what could be interpreted as embarrassment, the boy glanced over to the seated passenger and said, "Sorry."
The seated passenger, also looking a bit embarrassed at the attention, replied, "That's okay. No problem."
"See, now you've done the right thing," said the standing man. A few seconds later, the doors opened and he walked out onto the crowded subway platform.
I appreciated him speaking up and the calm, but firm manner in which he did.
I had been surprised at how the boy didn't seem to register running into the seated passenger. I remember thinking that the seated passenger might as well have been a ghost. Even the seated passenger looked surprised both upon impact and at the initial lack of acknowledgment.
While I find myself wondering if the young boy will remember the advice should any such occurrences take place in the future, I know I am grateful for the calm persistence of the stranger. He took it upon himself to teach something important and whether or not the lesson has a lasting effect on the intended student, he played his part and will never know whose listening ears he did effect. It definitely affected me.