Scenes from #96 tram

'Please, someone, fucken help me! PLEASE! You're all ok, I'm fucken sick can someone please fucken help me??!' Pause. 'I'm gonna kill you all with a fucken 503, I'll take you all out. Can't someone please help me? I'm going insane.'

It's hard to know what to do when someone is unwell AND threatening violence. To be honest, I'm too scared to approach this man. I'm hoping I am not in his direct line of sight. Quick-how can I help him? Quick-look down, read my phone.

He starts sobbing. His frame is shaking, shoulders loose and heavy. He is crying like a baby who needs consoling. He does need consoling. The tears are plopping off his face as he stands and turns. 'Which of you is gonna help me? Please! I can't handle the pain.' He is walking away from me and I am relieved for the distance. I feel if I waded into this it could cause an explosion.

Then a calm, younger man puts his hand on the man's shoulder, touches him, listens to him. The man calms down, he stands next to the young man in the turban. He gets off the tram with the boy who practised compassion. Who knows where the story goes but it was good to see love on board the #96 that day.

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The Waiting

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Notes of Substance

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