While driving home, I get stuck waiting at the railway crossing near the station of my little hometown. The station is to my left, the train has just stopped there. From my right, over a grassland, two preteen boys are biking toward the crossing. I mostly notice them because I am a bit worried about them knowing to look out for the train. They do; they lie down on the grass just under the bank, probably to watch the train from below. They’re nearer than I’m really comfortable with but safe enough.

Once the train is gone, one of them runs up the bank and puts something on a rail. Then, he looks around and adds two rather large stones — about the width of the rail itself, as far as I can see from where I am sitting in the third car from crossing. Then, he grabs his bike and goes to join his friend standing near the crossing; they obviously want to cross both the railway and street.

Seeing these actions, I roll down my right window. With half a dozen cars in each direction, they won’t be able to cross the street before my car reaches them, so I will be able to tell them off.

Only… the first car stops at the crossing. I don’t hear what is said, but one of the boys runs back to the rail and swipes the stones off. The cars in front of me drive away.

Wait, but he left the first thing. It’s not a stone but something colourful; maybe it’s soft, but still, I’m not going to take any chances.

I stop by the boys and shout for them to get the last item, as well, while the first car from the opposite direction has also stopped and is honking. The boys go and get the third item, as well, and we all drive on.

Somebody got a triple dose of being raised by the village today. And I got my belief that I am living among decent people confirmed.

I don’t have a car, so I regularly use the light rail in my city. I was on my way downtown to meet a friend, and the train was pretty packed. I saw an older woman get on, and I gave her my seat. Then, I decided I’d just stand since I was close to my stop.

I was playing on my phone, and I heard a woman ask a question about a certain stop. I didn’t look up, but then she asked again with an angry tone. I looked up and she was staring right at me.

Woman: “I said, how do I get to [Stop]?”

Her attitude automatically turned me off.

Me: “How the h*** should I know? I don’t work here.”

Woman: “You must work here; you’re standing up!”

Now we were the center of attention on the train. I started pointing at other people on the train.

Me: “He’s standing. She’s standing. Do they work here? I’m wearing a jacket and jeans! Where does it say ‘Metro’?”

It finally hit her how stupid she sounded, and she put her head down because I was making some serious eye contact.

I got off at my stop and she had the audacity to say, “You didn’t have to be so rude,” right before the doors closed. All I could do was laugh.

I had to travel from New York to Boston during one of “those” storms — like the one in this story. I could see that the weather was likely to cancel flights, so I booked a train. My flight was (as expected) cancelled. My train was cancelled. I got on another, which sat for four hours (without heat) in New Haven waiting for a replacement engine.

The [Rideshare] from the station to the hotel, which should have taken five minutes, took twenty-five minutes because streets were blocked due to flooding and snow drifts. I had to walk through a metre (three feet) of snow to get to the [Rideshare].

When I checked into the hotel:

Staff: “We apologise, but there is no room service right now. The kitchen is closed as the staff didn’t make it in today. In fact, out of about thirty bookings for tonight, you’re the only one who has actually made it to the hotel today! There’s probably only one bar that might have an open kitchen within walking distance; you could try that for food and drink.”

I was secretly pretty pleased that my plans to get to Boston worked. Even though it took nearly ten hours, it was better than being stuck in New York at the airport trying to get on a flight. The airport didn’t really open for two more days!

Related:
All I Want For Christmas Is A Little Perspective And Humility

I work at a tiny kiosk that sells convenience items like snacks, magazines, drinks, etc. We’re located next to a bus stop that gets us a decent amount of traffic.

For the last few weeks, at specific times throughout the week, I have noticed two women at the bus stop at the same time. They’re a little older, wearing very nice coats and large puffy hats, even though it’s a little warm.

Since in my part of the US, buses are unreliable and irregular, they can sometimes be sat there for over half an hour, so I decide to strike up a conversation with them.

Me: “Wow, ladies, I just wanted to say that I love how you rock those fabulous hats! I’ve seen you here for a few weeks now, and every week it’s so impressive.”

They both smile at me and thank me for my kind words. They both start talking among themselves, keeping me included.

Old Lady #1: “I’m lucky my husband bought me such nice hats on our travels. You see, I take this bus each week to go to the hospital because…”

She takes off her hat to reveal a bald head.

Old Lady #1: “…I’m doing the chemo. I’m a bit self-conscious.”

Old Lady #2: *Eyes go wide* “Oh, my God!”

She takes off her hat, also revealing a bald head.

Old Lady #2: “Me, too! Are you with Dr. [Name]?”

Old Lady #1: “Yes! I am! How have I not seen you before?”

Old Lady #2: “I usually try to keep my head down when I go in. Some weeks I feel really terrible and I don’t really pay attention to my surroundings.”

Old Lady #1: “Yes, it’s the same with me!”

They carry on like this, comparing “chemo notes” and chatting away, so intently involved in their conversation that I have to shout to them that their bus has arrived.

The next week, they’re both back, except they’ve arrived together and their conversation sounds like it hasn’t stopped since the previous week. They’re making in-jokes, talking about their late husbands, their children and grandchildren, etc. Finally, they remember I am there!

Old Lady #1: “Oh, goodness! What’s your name, dear?”

Me: “Oh, it’s Mary.”

Old Lady #2: “Mary! Thank you for complimenting our hats! If you hadn’t said anything, we wouldn’t have made friends like we have!”

Old Lady #1: “It makes so much difference having someone to go through this with together.”

Me: “I’m so happy to hear that! I’m so sorry that you’re both going through what you’re going through. If there’s anything I can do for you, please do let me know.”

Every week they’re back, and every week they’re happily discussing all manner of subjects under the sun, keeping me included. Some weeks seem harder than others (chemo takes its toll on you), but they both always seem to have energy for each other.

One week, I don’t see either of them. The next week is the same, and I eventually start to fear the worst.

After a couple of months, I see a car pull up, driven by a young man. Two old ladies get out of the back of the car and run over to me, full of smiles and energy, and showing hair!

Old Lady #1: “We wanted to come by and let you know we’re both okay!

Old Lady #2: “And we’re both off the chemo!”

Old Lady #1: “Our doctor said we both showed remarkable improvement when we started to talk to each other!”

Old Lady #2: “Those were his exact words! ‘Remarkable improvement.'”

Old Lady #1: “We both went to each other’s appointment together! You should have seen the look on his face!”

Old Lady #2: “They say a positive mindset can be a powerful healer! I’m not sure if that’s true, but it feels like it was with us!”

Old Lady #1: “We’re both in remission! Together! We wanted to thank you!”

Me: “Thank me? But I didn’t do anything!”

Old Lady #1: “Have you not been paying attention? You introduced us to each other!”

Old Lady #2: “You saved our lives!”

Old Lady #1: “We wanted to let you know! We may not need to use the bus anymore, but we’ll never forget you! We beat cancer and got a new best friend because of you!”

And with that, they both hand over a gift. It’s a new and beautiful hat, very similar to the one that [Old Lady #1] was wearing that day I started up a conversation.

Old Lady #1: “Remember us every time you wear that hat!”

They drove off, as happy and as talkative as I have ever seen them, with a smile beaming from my face.

Every time I am having a bad day, I look at my lovely hat and remember what came out from just a simple compliment while working at a kiosk one day, and it never fails to lift me back up again.

I drive passenger trains for a living. This story took place very early after I started driving on my own. I drove a train going south. They were switching out a bridge between the third and the fourth station. No trains could pass, so we would empty the train at station three, and we’d all take a bus to station four where we would continue the journey south on a different train. It was a planned job, and everything had been planned and arranged meticulously.

When we left my starting station, we made announcements about the bus. As my coworker told me later, she even told everyone affected in person as she took their tickets.

When we got close, we made another announcement, and to be absolutely certain that no one would be left, we made one more after we had stopped. My colleague helped the passengers find their way to the bus while I switched the driver’s compartment for the next driver. I also walked through the train after the doors were closed to make certain it was empty. 

There, I found an entire family obliviously waiting for the train to continue on its merry way.

Me: “Excuse me, but you have to switch to the bus now. I’ll open the door for you.”

Mother: “What?! No one told us about this!” 

Me: “We made several announcements.”

Mother: “We didn’t hear anything, right?”

There were nods of assent from the family.

Mother: “It is absolutely unacceptable for you to suddenly have us switch to a bus without any warning.”

Me: “It isn’t sudden. We’ve made several announcements, and it’s even on your ticket. This has been planned for at least half a year. Now let me show you where the bus is; I don’t want to be late.”

There was some more arguing before I got them to leave the train. I don’t recall exactly what was said since, at that point, I started to lose my temper and got very snarky. But I still don’t get how an entire group of people could miss all that information; it wasn’t a language barrier, they all seemed to hear me perfectly fine, and the kids were ten or older.