When Fists and Kicks Fly on the Subway, It’s Snackman to the Rescue
By JIM DWYER
Published: April 12, 2012
Charles Sonder, 24, an architect, had left a bar on the Lower East Side and was going to meet friends. A few convivial hours in the first place had given him an appetite. For sustenance on his train ride, he grabbed a stack of cheddar Pringles and a bag of Gummi-Bears. He wasn’t proud but made no apologies for his diet. “We’ve all been there,” he would later note.
The woman was not happy to see him. “Instantaneously, she jumps up and starts wailing on him,” Mr. Noy said. “Punching him in the face, kicking, cursing. Soon as she saw the dude, she started fighting him. Then he kicks back.”
Somehow, Mr. Sonder, who was a Rhode Island state wrestling champion at 189 pounds in high school and does architecture at 200, had never been present for such a scuffle in the subways, but then again, he moved to New York only two years ago. In his sports life, though, he had “seen things get out of hand.”
As it pulled in, Mr. Sonder stepped toward the door, and the battle ebbed for an instant as the man and the woman parted, possibly to let him pass. But he stopped, directly between them. He didn’t say a word, just kept working his way through the Pringles. With Mr. Sonder forming an implacable barrier, the fight dwindled to generally unprintable sputterings, with the woman ordering the man: “Don’t follow me. Do not follow me.”