karma is a beach, or, good things happen
Wednesday, December 16, 2009 at 4:41PM
All that's missing are the animated bluebirds. Every once in a while, for days on end, perfect strangers are inexplicably nice to me.
I should make this more clear. I believe people are basically good. It took me years to reach this conclusion, and I can't say there aren't times—every single day—in which I despise humanity. I could, and do, rant furiously about dog owners who leave their animals' droppings on the sidewalk for the rest of us to step in, or New York drivers who actually speed up when a pedestrian crosses in front of them. Rudeness abounds in this city and everywhere.
And yet, I was here during the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks and have seen the way ordinary people pull together in a crisis. Since then I have found myself on occasion looking around a crowded subway or a hot, understaffed store and thinking, If something unthinkable happened and I needed help, any one of these strangers would come to my aid. I know I would help them and have on many occasions—opening doors for old people, giving up my seat to moms with babies, running after someone who drops a letter on the street.
I'm not trying to paint myself as perfect, because I am most certainly not. But my faith in the people of New York is so unshakable, I guess I'm thanking them in advance. In doing so it appears I've built up a rather large stockpile of good karma, which seems to be coming back to me all in one week.
Consider:
1. I am doing a mountain of wash in our building's overburdened laundry room. There is a backlog of other people doing laundry. I am forced to wait for a dryer. I go upstairs and set the timer so my wet laundry doesn't lose its place in line. When I come back down 20 minutes later, an unseen somebody has already put my laundry into a dryer for me, and paid for it.
2. I get on the bus, only to realize my fare card is out of money. No problem, I tell the driver; I have an emergency fare card in my purse. The bus starts moving. I find my second Metrocard. It doesn't have enough fare, either. I'll get off at the next stop, I promise the driver. Don't be silly, says a woman sitting behind me, and pays my fare.
3. I am at the market. The cashier asks if I have a discount card. "I don't," I tell her. "You really should," she tells me. "I know," I tell her. "Do you mean one of these?" says the customer behind me, and hands her card to the cashier, who swipes it, saving me four bucks.
"It's the funniest thing," I say to the customer, after thanking her. "Inexplicably, people have been doing nice things for me all week."
"People are nice," she says, and wishes me a lovely day.
New York 






