7:56 pm in the heart of Manhattan transportation. The hustle and bustle of tourists and New York regulars alike, every inch of skin covered and bundled in the warmest and puffiest of winter coats, hats, scarves, and gloves. My sister, Maddie, and I were waiting for our 8:11 pm train’s track number to appear on the screen.

I glanced at our surroundings. About five feet away from us, there were three guys sitting on the floor, backs against the wall, who looked to be in their mid-20s. With looks that would typecast them as bro-y, frat-guy, but also attractive, I made up a story. They had just come back from watching some kind of game, either basketball or hockey, and knew each other from their Sig Chi days. These guys looked tired and worn out from the day. Two were blonde, one with a young Ben Affleck haircut.

Between us, there was a man who was obviously experiencing homelessness pacing back and forth. Dark skinned, slouching with worn-out clothes — a thin white t-shirt and loose army green capris — this man looked to be in his 60s, maybe 70s (living on the streets could age you), a receding hairline that left him with a mostly bald head, but also, white shoulder length hair, tangled and in need of a good brush.

Maddie was occupied with her phone, scrolling through pictures of the day’s adventure, deleting the ones she didn’t like. I looked at the train screen again, which remained unchanged, and continued to people-watch.

Or should I say, person-watched. Having gone on the San Jose Immersion twice, I was completely aware of people experiencing homelessness everywhere I went. On the street corner under the awning by La Vic’s when we went out for burritos, too familiar a scene: disfigured lumps hidden underneath dark-stained blankets, next to garbage cans, tucked away in front of abandoned store steps, a shopping cart of stuff beside, or simply a trash bag. The occasional small dog for company.

They stood out to me, and I couldn’t not see them.

He stood out to me, and I couldn’t help but wonder who was he and what circumstances had put him in this situation.

I stared back at the screen. The track number still had not appeared.

The man experiencing homelessness continued pacing back and forth. I watched the back of him take three steps forward, turn around, then three steps back to where he originally stood.

I turned to Maddie for a second. She was asking for my input on which photo she should delete from the restaurant we had just eaten at.

Then out of the corner of my eye: a young boy with his pom-pom Giants hat, handed two paper dollar bills to the man experiencing homelessness. I looked around, wondering if it was the boy’s decision to give the man money or perhaps that of his parents. Spotted his mom nearby, walking a few steps ahead, like she had instructed her son to give the man money, but quickly. (In the holiday spirit.) Then the kid shuffled away.

I watched the man’s reaction. He fingered the two paper bills in his open palm. Looked at the money, as if he were contemplating where and how he could spend it. A coffee from Dunkin Donuts? A sandwich from the deli 20 steps away? Food or drink, which was more important? Which would last longer? He turned in the direction towards the shops, took a few steps forward, turned around, and a few steps back. Then, he crumbled the bills, and threw them down to the ground, like in disgust.

The three frat guys were now standing, given that the train’s track would appear any minute.

I watched the money fall to the ground. Stared, completely entranced, wondering what would happen next. Guessing who would pick up the money. Maybe a little kid would find it, it’d be his lucky day.

It was the guy with the young Ben Affleck haircut.

Almost automatically, less than 5 seconds after.

Young Ben Affleck look-a-like picked up the crumpled dollar bills and walked over to the man. He looked the man in the eye and said, “Sir, I believe you dropped this,” holding out the bills.

I was trying hard not to stare, but I also wanted to see how this would play out.

The man shook his head, refusing to take the money. I saw young Ben Affleck try again. “Sir, are you sure you don’t want this?”

There was a sudden movement, like that stampede scene in The Lion King where all the wildebeast start running at baby Simba. I turned towards the screen — the train’s track had finally appeared and people were moving quickly to get to the track — and I’m 95% sure that young Ben Affleck stuffed the money in his pocket.

Now, this moment was surprising and profoundly significant for a few reasons. First, the man experiencing homelessness hadn’t been asking for money. He didn’t have a cardboard sign with permanent marker lettering, “Anything Helps.” It seemed like he could use the money, but it appeared he didn’t want it. This baffled me, for most of the time, we’re used to people experiencing homelessness feeling grateful to us when we hand them money, even if they’re not always asking for it.

Also, young Ben Affleck said, “Sir.” Looked the man experiencing homelessness in the eye. With respect. Treated him as an equal, a human being.

I was surprised by young Ben Affleck look-a-like’s reaction. And then I was angry at myself that I was surprised. Me, this person who says never to judge people before you know them, had unconsciously turned this guy into a former frat boy who didn’t look out for other people outside his world of privilege. And then allowed myself to be surprised that he actually did have a heart and cared for others. After everything I learned and experienced with the San Jose Immersions, and this is how I reacted?! What does that say about me?

People have a way of surprising us. Of not playing by the rules, dispelling stereotypes.

All of us.