I recently became a member of what feels a heck of a lot like a fraternity — I now am a Miami-Dade Metrorail rider. What started off as a helicopter dad’s reaction to my son’s insistence on riding the train across town to his new school turned into a badge of honor, proudly shown from the Doral station to downtown Miami and back almost every day of the workweek. Riding Metrorail and interacting with people on a daily basis has thickened my skin and provided me with a bird’s-eye view of Miami that isn’t possible from my car.
On what couldn’t have been a more dreadful Monday, after endless days of rain and gray skies, two back-to-back events unfolded that brought a ray of sunshine into my life and made me proud to be a Miamian. First, on an especially packed stop at the Brownsville Station, an elderly black woman squeezed her way into my standing-room only car and grabbed the railing next to me for dear life. Before the car moved 20 feet, a young white high school girl ripped off her earbuds, stood up and offered the lady her seat — shaming every single guy within eyesight. Hurray for millennials!
Second, an older Hispanic man started gasping for air and making a disturbing whooping noise. I leaned over and asked him if he was OK. He said in a broken English that he was supposed to have eight cups of water per day, but had only drank two and was dehydrated. Before he uttered another word, a middle-aged black construction worker reached into his cooler and handed the man a bottle of water, immediately ending the whooping noise. I swear there were tears in some eyes when I looked around.
With all the evil surrounding us today, that dreadful Monday turned into a proud Miami moment.
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