At Edison station, all the people at the other end of the train car are standing, looking in one direction, silent, somber. Some sort of health emergency, clearly. I can’t see the subject of the commotion, only its reflection in them.
Conductors come. “Get a doctor”. “Call an ambulance.” “It’s bad”.
The announcement goes out. Anybody with medical experience to the 6th car. Some people come. Do they know anything?
I’m 10 feet away from the poor sap, but I can ‘t bear to go take a look. I just infer from the people standing. Something of a Blaire Witch Effect. Is it that I really feel helpless and I want to help? No. Is it that I don't want to look at somebody who might be dying? More at.
They ask for Orange Juice. A diabetic, turns out. Problem with his pump?
By 10:42 an EMT arrives. Big moustache. Jovial, under control. Diabetic, no problem.
10:49. Ambulance spotted from the door of the train.
10:51. EMT cuts out. Ambulance has arrived.
10:54. The guy is standing up, acting better, wants to take stay on the train. A guy with a 1:00 flight out of Newark is getting antsy. Why? Is he carrying explosives? Eventually they let him take the train, don't make him go in the ambulance. A mistake. He needs chocolate and much tending to make it to the city, annoyingly.
I’m late for lunch with Steve. Probably no “nice sole” at the little French place. Just as well.
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