We had just gotten on the subway yesterday evening preparing to take the long ride back to the center of Taipei, when a young boy, probably six-years-old, rushed into the subway car just as the doors were closing. Unfortunately, his mother was not as fast, and she was left standing on the platform, helplessly watching, as the train sped off with her son on board.
The poor boy stood in front of the door looking perplexed. Murphy tried to tell him that his mother would follow on the next train, but of course none of us knew his stop - and the child spoke no English anyway. We were discussing what to do and trying to get a Chinese man on the train to speak to the child, but he did not understand English either. Murphy came to the conclusion that maybe we should all get off at the next stop and wait with the lad until his mother showed up. Before that could happen, however, a Chinese woman told us, in English, that the child knew which stop to get off at. She had some conversation with the boy to ensure that she was right about that.
A few stops later the youngster got off of the subway car to wait for his mother. Crisis averted. I left wondering what had been the scariest part of the evening for the kid - losing his mother, or having three large, white Americans trying to help him!