Salvation.

Don't say you weren't warned and that I told you it wasn't coming.


These days have been as black as the night, but at last a silver lining has emerged. Finally the first sign of good in a long time.




For sometime now I have searched for the essence of good in the city of lost souls, and the week I take a break is when I find it. Allow me to enlighten you with a few events whose occurrences have glowed ever so brightly in this dark world we live in (at least in my perspective).



I. The Old Man and the Gumball.

I, as most New Yorkers do, enjoy a solid black coffee during twilight hours to being the day. Due to my early schedule, I haven't had one chance this school year to enjoy the brew of my favorite dinner. So on a calm Thursday morning graced with beautiful weather, I set out for a nice walk and a quenching cup of coffee at the blue- bay dinner in Fresh Meadows. Whilst standing on a rather large line (As I said, MOST New Yorkers enjoy this), I was presented with the almost cliche sight of a young child staring at a gumball machine, whilst the mother picked up the food to go. As it happens in the movies, the child yanks on the strap of the mothers pocketbook only to be denied the circular silver key to his desire, and also as it is seen in the movies, the little boy almost immediately bursts into tears. Prevented by the single ten dollar bill in my pocket, my hope to intervene in the situation is decimated. So I watch in agony as the young child no more than 5 years old cries. However, no sooner do I see an old Asian gentleman (around his late 60's or early 70's) tap the toddler on the shoulder. He extends his closed fist to reveal a polished green gumball, which is snatched almost instantly by the delighted toddler. The mother is soon made aware of this gesture and reaches into her purse trying to repay the man, but the old gentleman responds to this gesture by extending his hand to reveal a gesture projecting the words "It's alright". He then smiles at the mother and winks at the jubilant young child. Needless to say, I stare at the gentleman in disbelief only wanting to shake his hand and say thank you. Suddenly I am awoken from my trance by the cashier uttering the words (in an utmost annoying voice), "HELLO! NEXT!"

II. Morals, Main Street, and the Q13.

A day or two after the incident at the dinner, I am awoken by a good friend of mine asking me if I'd like to join him in Manhattan around 1:30. I am quite fond of the city in which I reside in, so I agree. I have chosen to ignore the incident, and have dismissed it as a sheer coincidence. With 6 billion people on this planet, there is more than one decent person on the planet (I explained the theory of the "1%" of humanity in an earlier entry). I thought to myself for hours the night after and came to the conclusion that the man was a believer of the old fashion ways of chivalry and kindness, and era which has long since died with most of the population during the time. I think to myself of the level of greed this generation upholds and I almost shed a tear knowing the gentleman and the men of the great era in which he lived will pass on unremembered. My thoughts soon become heavier and heavier, and soon it is time to leave for my affair.

I show up around the corner of Main Street and Roosevelt at precisely 1:00 pm. I must admit, I have a quite a case of O.C.D when it comes to time, and I usually find myself arriving early to my affairs due to my abysmal fear of arriving late. I perch myself on a ledge across from the bus stop of the Q13 bus which is also the spot where I had agreed to meet my friend where we would cross the street and board the number seven train after his arrival. Main Street is probably the most crowded area of the suburban borough in which I live, many faces all going places. I begin to play a game with myself, which consists of analyzing people by their appearances to make an educated guess at their final destinations. A man in a black suit, aged around thirty five (my guess of course), a silver brief case and a pair of ray bans complete his imagine of a yuppie. My guess is that he's heading to wall street to try and uproot us from this shit hole that we dug OURSELVES, into, a case rather ironic. I take my eyes off this man in sheer disgust, and have picked out a familiar face among the crowd, a teenager such as myself who I attend school with. He is holding the hand of a little girl (who I make out to be his sister), and is walking with her toward the Q13 bus stop. I find myself is a state of curiosity, and I make my way over to the couple to greet them. "Hello", I say, I extend my hand out toward him in which he shakes it. I say hello to the little girl as well by moving my hand in a rather childish way, a way in which only children can appreciate. We make small talk for a little, and I notice that he is staring at the arriving bus. I ask him where he is off to in a rather curious tone of voice. He then smiles at the little girl and replies "I'm taking her to the movies". Not even a second after the words have left his lips, the little girl jumps into the air with benevolent smile and exclaims "We're going to see the Hannah Montana movie!" He then laughs a chuckles for a second and then extends his hand to me to return the gesture I had shown only moments ago. I shake his hand and bid him goodbye and watch as he boards the line for the bus. Never do I take my eyes off the couple, not even for a second. I watch as the teen helps his sister up the stairs, and then pays their tolls. I watch him escort her to a open seat in which he sits her down and gives her a "high- five". This incident has left me in a coma. I then experience the sensation of which I cannot give a definition. My friend arrives a minute later. I play back the experience time after time for the rest of the day.

This is a sign, there is good in the world, I KNOW it. I feel it now, more than ever.

III. The Jaws of Life.

I have a handful of true friends, most will remain nameless. Among them is an E.M.T, a man who I feel I am inferior to introduce. He is the head E.M.T at his medical base in Flushing, he is a man of many morals who I cannot even begin to enlighten you on. This story has absolutley nothing to do with my experiences, but I feel it should be mentioned to pay hommage to a man who is the very essence of benevolence, someone who will be praised for his ways of honesty and truth when judgement day comes (and rest assure it is coming for us all).

Now that you have somewhat of an idea of my friend, let us begin the story.

Saturday afternoon, a time in which children enjoy themselves by engaging in many different activities. A regular twelve year old boy playing basketball at his local gymnasium. A nice crowd, smiles all around. The scene itself is perfect, like a scene of out a family movie. Something I'd say that you would like to picture yourself in. However, when there is no more room for perfection, there is plenty of room for malace, and so by a horrible accident, a young 12 year old boy is lying on the polished floor with no pulse and no heartbeat. He is taken for dead, but still posesses the will to live.

The call comes into the peaceful base, the ambulance departs in a furious manner, armed with screaming sirens who utter the call of a last hope. Among the crew is my friend, hoping to persuade death to spare the soul of the little boy. They arrive on the scene, C.P.R is started at the blink of an eye with the A.E.D already half way charged. So the fight begins as the contractions start and the A.E.D is applied. The crew is determined, so far.

C.P.R is failing, and five A.E.D's have still not bought this boy to the earth. There is a devistating, omnious feeling in the air. The crew has started to realize that they are fighting an uphill battle, all but one. A sixth A.E.D fails almost completing the transition from a body to a cadaver. However, the boys will to live is smelled by the head E.M.T, and the A.E.D is powered up for one final time. The pads are applied to the chest of the pre- teen, this is the last chance for the boy to beat death. The E.M.T puts his heart in his chest as he screams "CLEAR!" on final time. With the press of the button the boy is brought back to life, and death has since then lurked back into the shadows.

The E.M.T thanks his crews and shakes the hands of almost everyone in the gym. He is offered money by the family, but humbly refuses it. He has been paid already, with the glory of saving a life, with the glory that he has achieve an impossible feat in such a small amount of time. He has conquered death, but more importantly, he has saved a family, he has given the boy another chance, and that is all he cares about.

And so he enjoys a nice slow ride back to the base, reading for whatever is next.

There is good in the world, I see it, I believe it.

This is my salvation.