I got out of the R train at the 25th stop in Brooklyn; I was on my way to play music at a local dive. On the platform moved a boy of equal age. He had hipster jeans on and a white t'; the glasses he wore had stylish lenses but no frames. But, most wouldn't have notice his apparel or accessories; most would of notice his walk or lack there of. His left leg rose like a turning crane, and rotated like an oval crank. He had to think each time he stepped how his leg would go up and down. Not left, right, left, no, there was no rhythm, just go. He let falling forward become perpetual progression. His legs made a jerking violent motion each time his left foot hit the concrete floor. The rest of his body followed with misbalance and a twitch.
I went behind him through the open subway gate, just off the platform. He made his way towards the stairs amongst the others who left the train. When he got the base of the stairs he just stopped. Leaving the focus on his feet, he turned his eyes up, then his head, and just looked up. The light from outside silhouetted his misshapen stance and lit a tiny part of his facial expression. His eyes were wide and his mouth was partially open, connoting surprised displeasure. Looking at the 32 steps that lay before him, he fearfully calculated the rise & run of each stair. Step 27 looks like it bends, making it about a 1/2inch lower than the rest. His eyes seemed to like Step 27 the best out of the 32. I didn't pass him like all the rest. I just blocked the on slot of skinny & sometime large people from bumping him out of his thoughts. Then he began the assent that for most takes at most 30secs. He began boldly with his left leg; he swung his hip joint forward & once his hands grasp the rail, he was off. 1,2,3 rest; 4,5,6 rest; 7, rest. His arms began to shake from the weight of dragging his body. He seemed okay at first climbing like he had walk in a slowing Top manner, wobbling, but somehow staying upright. Between the 10th & 11th step the motion of moving forward became too much. He used the power of his right legs & arms to drag his unwilling left leg the rest of the way. It was brutal to watch, but the world didn't stop. The pressing amount of people made it hard to protect him. The wave of girth-ful individuals would have surly sent his crashing down his mountain. But he had no time to notice the people around him, his task was the hardest compared to all the worlds chaos. Upon his reaching the top the sun lit his face in a blinding manner, making the last few stairs more treacherous. But we he made it, even in his disorientation, he smiled. The monumental task had been complete and he had been victorious.
He took a right to the corner awaiting the light to change. I preceded strait thinking of the strength I had just witnessed. A disability had been overcome he was like everyone. I myself had disabilities that I still needed to overcome. I kept going strait, but them I stopped. I turned and just as the hero made his way onto the median, something happened. Although he had made the 32 steps-loving that 27th step-the rise of the slab of concrete median was one step to many. He had begun boldly again with his left leg, but this time he had not taken time to calculate the rise. His shoe caught the broken corner of the almost right angle piece dividing the roads. Upon this catch the perpetual motion that had helped his assent, brutalized his decent. He fell, fell hard. Barely getting one hand to his protect his face, he hit the pavement and was defeated. He lay motionless as every person who pretended to ignore his disability in the subway tunnel ran to save him. Bolting from every direction the fat guy, the crack heads, the MTA employee, the hipster, myself. The MTA guy got there first. He picked up this broken individual & brought him to his feet. My hero looked shocked to not be on the ground and dismayed with embarrassment. Then he checked himself to make sure he was okay. He looked used to checking himself for damage. First looking for spots of blood, then checking his cloths for holes, and then wiggling his appendages to make sure things worked. He gave a shy wave just as I finally reached him. He moused out “I'm okay, I'm okay.” He continued to repeat this phrase, like a broken record, as he geared up to continue on his way.
He began again crossing the street. Some individuals and myself acted as crossing-guards cause the light had changed. We kept our distance pretending we were just walking not protecting. The rest who had noticed his fall went back to their previous task. I walked with him for just a moment after he reached the new side of the street. I started to walk at my normal pace and passed him. Once I created distance from him, I began to reflect: how hard an existence, how powerful, and how...My thoughts were interrupted by another conversation involving a shopkeeper; Who said: “that accident changed that boy…so sad...so sad.” The weight of words fell into my stomach. I could have been that disabled individual; I could be looked upon with voyeuristic admiration or felt the embarrassment of a debacle’d simple task, or be seen as something just “sad”. Maybe I am that boy, just wanting to be normal.
I walked onto my destination with the guilt that my injuries were not as noticeable and that I still want sympathy.
