There was a two year old trapped.
We were in McDonald’s playing in the playground area. I was 5, and he had trouble getting up the ladder. He was stuck in between the two levels because he couldn’t lift himself up. I decided to help him get all the way up and down to the slide.
For some reason, I’ve always idealized this memory. Anytime I think I’m a bad person, or I’m embarrassed by my social awkwardness, I find solace in this memory. I think, “Hey I’m not a dick even though I cut off that car. Would a dick have helped that kid up the playground 20 years ago? The memory has always been a grandiose experience in my head. That’s why I think it belongs with the stories about saving people.