Sleeping on it

One recent morning as I rode the train in to downtown, in a window seat, a young man sat next to me. Tacit protocol on the train is that I don't look at the person directly next to me; turning my head that far is reserved only for circumstances where I must say something to that person, which is rare.

Within a few stops the young man's head drooped, and his body slumped toward my shoulder. When the train would stop he'd pop his head a bit, looking the other direction, and then he'd slump again in obvious sleep. His ability to resume his slumber was impressive, I must say; almost immediately he was out. And when he went out, he was leaning the weight of his entire upper body against me—which, after a while, got to be a bit much.

Did I accost the sleeping man? No. Stoically I tolerated having this total stranger pressed up against me (one gets over one's personal space issues quickly when one takes public transportation). However, I must admit that in my mind I found myself thinking, What the hell is this idiot's problem? He better have a damn tough situation to justify this crap.

At least, that's the nicer of the thoughts.

Then as we were on approach to the end of the line he'd been awoken by a hand that came from behind us. The seats on the row across from us opened up as the people who'd been there got up to stand by the door, and he popped out from next to me and sat on the other side of the aisle. This allowed me to get a better look out of my peripheral vision.

His face displayed obvious signs of having Down Syndrome.

So, uh… yeah.

~

When I got home and told my wife the story of the man who fell asleep, pressing against me (with a demonstration of the force his limp body had), how I'd thought him to be kind of a jerk, and then revealed that he had Down Syndrome, did she admonish me for having thought ill of him before I realized?

Her response was this: "Down Syndrome does not give one narcolepsy."

I love this woman!