A Sandy Samaritan

Dear Diary:

Jessica Miller

The Friday after Hurricane Sandy, I was scheduled to fly home to San Francisco from Brooklyn and had reserved a car service to get to the airport. But they called at the last minute. No gas, no car. Good luck.

I called every car service around and no one even answered. So, I ventured outside to hail a cab. In the gas station across the street they were queued up, all of them with empty tanks.

Dangerously close to missing my plane, I hauled my bags to the F train and missed it by about 20 seconds. Then I saw an approaching M.T.A. employee and asked him if the A train was running all the way to the airport.

He wasn't sure. I could go to Jay Street and ask - oh and by the way, he's going home to Far Rockaway right now; I probably wouldn't want a ride, though. Actually, I do, I really really really want a ride to the airport.

I still believe that New Yorkers take care of each other when terrible things happen, and this is what gives me the courage to get in a car with a total stranger. We talked about ourselves a bit on the way, and joked about how he was earning his Boy Scout patch. He heroically drove me all the way to J.F.K. and we got there just in time. I offered him some money, but he refused.

Instead, I asked him for his address so I could send him a custom patch I designed, one that expresses my deep gratitude at finding such a gem of a New Yorker, a good Samaritan willing to help someone having a run of bad luck. It should be in his mailbox soon, with thanks.

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