My first contact with New Yorkers was at the JFK airport. When we first came in United States, I thought my family and I landed in a mad house. The crowd was indescribable and everybody was rushing and pushing to get to their flights. Nine hour long overseas flight made us very exhausted and did not help our mood. We knew that our ordeal has just begun because we had to pass through the immigration and customs with the entire luggage that we were carrying with us, check our bags and catch another flight. Our daughter seemed as an extra weight that slowed us a lot. Can you imagine how nervous we were because we were already late? In the moment through my mind flashed a thought that we were not going to make it, and staying there over the night would be a must.
Then I saw an overweight Afro-American man standing by the cart, and I knew I had to approach and ask for help. In the moment I took out 5 dollars out of the wallet and offered him for the cart. He took the money, but I did not get the cart. Instead of that, he loaded our baggage and led us toward our gate. He just walked forward with his big steps pushing the cart with our stuff, and we followed him trying not to be too many steps behind. Soon after we were in front of customs, but the break down did not occur. We just passed through with the kindest guide we ever met. The hope of catching the next airplane came back on our brightened faces. The feeling we were in the mad house disappeared and was replaced with the gratefulness and joy. I hope the man; our man saw and remembered our happy faces as we would always remember his rough, but kind face.
What am I thinking, after all, about New Yorkers? Was it just luck or touch of faith? Who knows; what is for sure is that the luck follows the brave and the faith is something you never know from where it is going to be supported. The New Yorker we met then will remain our good prism through which we will watch American nation in the time that is coming.