Emma Zayer

I sometimes speak Russian in my sleep, according to both my boyfriend and my former roommate. Not just murmuring, but full-sentence-speaking, Russian in my sleep.

Which is kind of funny since I always clam up when it comes to speaking Russian while awake.

But what's even funnier is my reaction after being told about the sleep talking:

"What did I say?"

...since neither of them speak Russian. Yet I always hold out some strange glimmer of hope that they'll remember my words. Yes, seriously, every time.

New York City is a place where vulgarity and compassion can comfortably go hand in hand.

A few days ago I was riding up the Penn Station escalator going from the Long Island Railroad to a Washington-bound bus. As usual on an afternoon in NYC, the escalator and the station were crowded. And as my fellow riders and I got closer to the top we heard a woman shouting at street level, "Give me a fucking napkin!" Over and over and over. She was standing just two or three feet away from the top of the escalator so as it spit you out you could have almost toppled right onto her...and a few riders who weren't very agile or stopped to look at the contained commotion were subject to her wrath. ("Keep fucking moving! Get out of the fucking way! Give me a fucking napkin!")

She didn't explain why she wanted said napkin, but once I was out of the station I looped around behind her to see what was going on. Over three or four other on-lookers I finally got a glimpse of the problem: huddled on the round against a station wall was another woman cradling a dog with a bloody paw. It was the cutest, saddest looking pup, fuzzy and golden like a spaniel with big, bloodhound-esque eyes, being held like a baby. I felt such a pang of sympathy looking at the poor thing that I had to turn away. I'd have reached into my backpack to get some napkins but I didn't remember where they were packed and a few other people were already digging to present their own offerings.

Why the barking woman didn't run down to Rite Aid or one of the zillion food places to grab napkins, I don't know. I guess she didn't want to leave her friend/companion alone...then again, I don't even know that the two women knew each other before this. But as I walked away with the new-found knowledge of the injured dog, the cursing pleas struck me as kind of, well, sweet.

Though I didn't get involved in this situation I am generally a big fan of random acts of kindness. For your friends, for your loved ones, for total strangers. I really appreciate when someone goes slightly out of his way to do a nice thing for me and I like doing the same for other people. Sometimes it makes my whole day seem more upbeat for only a little bit of energy expended.