The reason I first noticed him was probably his pants. He had hopped onto the train just as the doors had clanged shut and it had drawn out from the station. The police would later ask if there were anything remarkable about him and I would think back to those garish fluorescent yellow pants.

The train wasn’t very busy. It was around 3pm and I was headed home from work. In my post-Covid reality, I had to find the right spot to plug in my commute into a schedule that was littered with meetings. I was lost in thought when the fluorescent pants flashed into my line of sight. The wearer of the pants was unremarkable other than his choice of attire. The police would later ask if there was anything about his appearance that made me think him dangerous. I didn’t know what to do with that question. Was she asking about my unconscious biases?

Walking into the train car, our nondescript average looking guy was spoiled for choice in terms of where to seat. He walked from one end of the car to the other, and took his time settling down. I might have gone back to looking out the window and worrying if I would make it home in time for my call, but he did something that peeked my interest. He set down the large khaki bag he’d been carrying on the floor and then moved to sit himself some distance away. My mind registered this as odd, but it didn’t worry me that much. Could be that it was heavy or he may have had other reason for his action. None of my business, I thought.

That would have been that … but it wasn’t. 

The train stopped  and I got out to the lovely smells of fresh coffee from the nearby factory and enchanting freshly baked bread from the nearby bakery. Time was on my side and I was going to make it for my meeting after all. I even decided to risk a quick dash to the supermarket to pick up something for dinner. Being out in negative winter temperatures was never fun, so better get all I needed. I looked up and saw fluorescent yellow pants walking in front of me. Sans bag – his hands were free. And … wait a minute … hadn’t I glanced the bag on my way out? Oh my God … this guy has gotten into a train with a bag and left it behind! I felt my chest contract as my stomach dropped. My pulse quickened and my mind started rushing.

Here’s the internal conversation that followed:

Me 1: “DANGER! Bomb! Alarm!”

Me 2: “But wait … might he just have forgotten it?”

Me 1: “You know he didn’t! He was very deliberate in placing it apart from himself. Who does that?”

Me 2: “Yeah you’re right. That was very suspicious.”

Me 1: “You know how this would go down at an airport: ‘If you see something, say something!’”

Me 2: “Yeah … If you see something say something.”

Me 1: “Well?”

Me 2: “Well what?”

Me 1: “Are you going to say something?”

Me 2: “Hell no! Why me? There could be any number of explanations! He could have …”

Me 1: “Don’t even start with your excuses.”

Me 2: “… forgotten it! How about that? What if it’s all just one big misunderstanding. What if he left it there for someone else to come pick? What if …

Me 1: “What if it’s a bomb and all those people never get home to their meetings and lousy hurried dinners?”

Me 2: “What’s wrong with my plans for dinner?”

Me 1: “Stop changing the subject! How would you feel if they all died and you had had a chance to do something about it, but chose not to? What would you want a witness in your shoes to do if you were one of those people still on the train?”

Me 2: “But what if no one believes me?”

Me 1: “You know what you have to do.”

Yes, what if no one believes the story? What actually happened was perhaps slightly worse than not being believed. The cops believed me alright, but didn’t understand why I had called. A man had left a bag on a train … so what? It was like explaining danger to someone who had been brought up on Sesame Street. My frustration almost brought me to tears. The police asked where I was. Who I was. What was in the bag. And eventually, they asked why I had called. The police lady on the other side of the phone was struggling through the English and that certainly didn’t help. 

I missed my meeting after all. I don’t know if the police did anything with the information I gave them. Listening to the news later, I was glad that there was no explosion on the train lines. Believe me, this is one of the things where you would rather be wrong. In the end, I was glad that I had called. It told me that I was ready to suffer losing face for a greater good. I was ready to tango with authority for a higher purpose. I genuinely cared about people.

Later that week an explosion would reverberate through a residential area. I idly wondered if the police had been tipped off but equally nonplussed.