One Sunday when I was in my twenties, I was about to board a subway in downtown New York City. The platform was curved, the antique IRT Battery Place subway train had no straps, and its floor was greasy. In my moccasined feet, I slipped between the train and the platform, and my left leg was securely wedged all the way up to my thigh. Although I tried to scream, no words came out. The train conductor's bell rang twice. My heart raced and I prayed that my death would be quick. I figured the leg would be severed and I would quickly lose consciousness and life.

The doors shut completely for good. My leg was still wedged down in the crevasse and the other leg was on the platform. My heart was beating nearly out of my chest. Suddenly the doors opened. A man with flowing locks and a long dark coat grabbed me, with superhuman strength and threw me onto the floor of the train. He then left without ever having uttered a word, and disappeared into the next  car.

My leg was only badly bruised and I knew it was beyond the human realm. None of the humans around me were responsive or interwested in what had just happened. They did not appear to have seen this rescuer. The Metro Transit Authority sent me forms in triplicate to sue them but I never did, because I was basically unharmed.  I did write a letter to the Daily News, which was published, in which I begged the city to improve that dangerous line.  Many years later, after several transcendental experiences, I know that I have been given several spiritual gifts to share with others. So I thank my angel every day for walking with me, and especially, for rescuing me that day long ago.