But where were his shoes?

Ahhh... The A train. I love it. Love it. Express all the way from 125th to 59th. It's a beautiful thing really. It gets me to class really fast. So, why weren't we moving? We had been stopped at Columbus Cir for about 1 minute. (A lifetime in the train during rush hour) I did notice some lady screaming on the platform, but over the volume of my IPOD I didn't know what she was yelling. I figured she was pissed about the delayed train as was I. I removed my headphone and heard further screaming. 'Is anyone a doctor or a nurse??!!' Now, I'm not...yet. God willing I'm about a month and a half away from being an RN. I exit the train and run all the way to the other end of the platform and enter the car. Male, 35-40, African-American, fit, dressed in a business suit briefcase by his side sprawled out flat. CPR. Some stranger with an accent (British perhaps) and I. People screaming for EMT. No pulse, not breathing. Nothing. Where are his shoes? CPR for about 5 mins till NYPD arrive. (The only reason I know this is cause I happened to look up and saw about 5 of them watching me) He's dead. I know this. He was just on his way to work. Unknowing. Family? Friends? EMS arrives and takes over. One EMS guy pulls me aside to ask what happened. 'He was dead when I got here.' MI? Aneurysm? (sp?) Who knows.

I clean my mouth with an alcohol swab I had in my backpack. Looked at the man who was no more. Give the cop my info, etc. Where the hell are his shoes? We pull him to the center of the car. Still no shoes. WTF??!? Never to be worn by this stranger again.