Hand Of Fate 2

My junior year of high school I went on a school sponsored trip to Europe. It was part of some package offered to high schools called 'The Four City Tour'. We went to Athens, Rome, Paris, and London. In Rome we went through the Sistine Chapel which was, memorable.

When we went it was very crowded. I remember it being large, probably the size of a basketball court. The crowd was shuffled along rather quickly in order to accommodate the high volume of tourists. I remember being told not speak above a whisper and to try avoid speaking all together.

I remember being awed and feeling like I was part of something bigger than myself. While we were exiting my friend Drew called from behind me 'Hey Steve.' I turn around and I see a women in a wheel chair motioning to me. There's only one exit which has a very steep ramp. It's clear its too steep for her to get up unassisted. She motions to me again and I realize we are the only stationary people in the room. People are streaming by her and no one is stopping to help. I walk down to her and pause. She doesn't speak to me and I don't speak to her. We make eye contact briefly and she nods. She is in her late 30's, attractive, dirty blond, wearing a simple red dress. I take the handles and guide her up the ramp with moderate difficulty. I push her down the hallway and out into the courtyard beyond. Once there she touched my hand, looked at me, nodded, and said 'merci' softly. I walked away to rejoin my classmates.

It felt like I was suppose to be there. For whatever reason it felt important. I felt like it was a good thing I did. A small thing. A simple thing. But a meaningful thing.

I wonder if she ever thinks of it.

Hand Of Fate

I do not believe in God, I believe in Fate. I believe we all have a purpose, a great arching purpose. And on the way to the big purpose you have many small purposes along the way. Some thing, some greater design or plan, puts you in certain situations because you're meant to be there. You're meant to make a difference, to help, to stand up and act.

I went to college at Illinois State University. All the dorms there have Subway's on the first floor. I OD'ed on Subway, always a foot long chicken teriyaki on wheat with cheese, olives, and sweet onion sauce. I was in the same dorm as a close friend of mine from high school, Drew, but didn't room with him. It was Sunday evening May first, May Day, my best friend and roommate was working at the local Bennigans so I had the room to myself. I was ignoring my calculus homework in favor of leveling up my characters in Final Fantasy 10. I got hungry around 8. I went down to get a sandwich and when the elevator doors opened there was Drew, dirty and crying.

Me: (concerned) Drew! What's up man? You OK?
Drew: (bawling, drunk) Fuck, man. I'm fucked up man.
Me: Drew, what's going on man, what happened.
Drew: LAX house(pronounced Lacrosse)...bands all day...this fucking hill man...slipped in the mud...shit man I think my ankle is broken...
Me: (very concerned) You broke your ankle?
Drew: Yeah. I heard a pop and then awwww...
Me: You walked from there?
Drew: Yeah.
Me: Jesus man. (all business) Stay right here, don't move.
(goes to subway, fills up a Subway to go bag with ice, returns)
Me: Alright, lets get you up to your room.
Drew: (slings arm around shoulder and hobbles)
Me: Here's what were gonna do. Were gonna go up to your room, you're going to lie down and ice your ankle. You have your car keys?
Drew: ...yeah...
Me: Give them to me. (he does) Good. Where's your car?
Drew: ...um...ahhh...
Me: Come on man.
Drew: ...Hester...Hester and School.
Me: Good. After we get you situated I'm going to go get your car, pull it out front and then comeback here and get you. I can probably be there and back in 15 minutes. Can you handle that or do you need an ambulance.
Drew: (tears leaking out) Naw man. Come get me.
Me: Alright. Then we're gonna go to the ER and get you fixed up. I'm here man. I know it hurts but I'm here and this will be OK.
Drew: (starting to cry)...My dad is gonna be so mad...
Me: (sharply) Fuck that. You're gonna be OK and that's the important thing. Look at me. Look at me(he does). It hurts, you're fucked up, I know. Everything is gonna be fine man. You're gonna be OK. You walked home from the LAX house you crazy fuck(grins). I'll take care of the rest.

He was fine. The ER checked his leg and it was a hairline fracture. He needed to wear a brace for two months and it was tender after but he came out OK.

Afterwards I reflected. Why did I come down at the exact moment he was coming up? Would he have called me when he got to his room? It seemed to me too perfect, too much of a coincidence. I think I was meant to be there. I was meant to help my friend who I eventually became estranged from. He wasn't a great friend, we didn't get along in college. But I was glad. I was happy to help my friend who had befriended me in high school when not many did. I was glad to help out someone who was hurt and lost and needed someone to take care of them. Something put me there. I was guided there...

By the Hand of Fate.