The Kind Stranger

Owen was spending the weekend in a city he scarcely knew. At home he drove everywhere, and he was not used to public transport at all. At the station he had bought a blue travel card, because a friend had assured him that the tram was by far the easiest way to reach the old town. At the stop he observed the people in front of him: each of them touched a card to a small machine as they stepped aboard, a simple gesture that seemed to need no thought whatsoever.

When the tram arrived, Owen followed suit. He held his card against the reader, but a red light appeared and the machine gave a sharp, unfriendly beep. He tried again, with the same result. Behind him, a few passengers began to shift impatiently and slip past, and he felt the familiar heat of embarrassment rising in his face. He wasn’t used to being the slowest person at a stop.

“Try holding it still for a second,” said a woman behind him, in a tone so kind that it was impossible to take offence. Owen turned. Rather than taking the card from his hand, she lifted her own and showed him exactly where to place it on the reader. He copied the movement, and this time the light flashed green. The whole thing had taken perhaps five seconds.

“Thank you. It’s my first day here,” Owen said as they stepped inside. The woman smiled and told him which stop was nearest to the old town, then moved to the back of the tram, where her friends were waiting. She never mentioned the delay or the people who had queued behind him, and by not mentioning it she made it seem unimportant.

Owen found a seat by the window. A moment earlier he had felt exposed and awkward, but the woman had helped him without making him feel foolish, which, he thought, was the part that really mattered. As the tram approached his stop, he checked the name on the screen twice and stepped off in the right place, a little more confident than when he had started. By Sunday, he suspected, he would have got used to the whole system.