Joseph Lynskey had never spent much time in a firehouse and was not sure what to expect.
But he certainly had not anticipated being greeted at the door by the commissioner of the New York Fire Department and a long line of firefighters and lieutenants waiting to shake his hand. “I’m Joe,” he said to one man and then the next, overwhelmed by the turnout.
When he reached the opposite side of the station, near the plaques memorializing fallen firefighters, Mr. Lynskey was facing John Montalbano and Johnathon Aquilina, the men who had climbed beneath a subway train to rescue him on Dec. 31 after he had been pushed onto the tracks.
A handshake felt insufficient. He wrapped one man and then the other in emotional hugs.
“I can’t thank you guys enough, everyone here, just from the bottom of my heart,” he said, pausing to collect himself, “for getting me out from under that train.” He added, “You saved my life.”
The reunion took place on Monday afternoon at the Engine 3, Ladder 12 and Battalion 7 firehouse in Chelsea, about a block away from the West 18th Street subway station in Manhattan where Mr. Lynskey, 45, was shoved from the platform into the path of a downtown 1 train.
Somehow, his body went crashing down onto the tracks and into a 10-inch trench just seconds, or even milliseconds, before the train went over him. (A 23-year-old man, Kamel Hawkins, was accused of shoving him and has pleaded not guilty to second-degree attempted murder, assault and attempted assault.)
For about five minutes, Mr. Lynskey lay under the train, inches from the electrified third rail, hoping someone would rescue him. By the seventh minute, Firefighters Montalbano and Aquilina had dragged him out from beneath the train without waiting for the electricity to be turned off. Their colleagues helped them hoist Mr. Lynskey to the platform. He was rushed to Bellevue Hospital, where for a week he was treated for four broken ribs, a fractured skull, concussion and ruptured spleen.
Mr. Lynskey, who works in the music industry, survived what has become for many New Yorkers their greatest nightmare.
But his trip to the firehouse, to reconnect with the emergency workers who extricated him, was a reminder of the city’s decency.
“I can’t thank you — all of you, everyone here — for what you do for the people of New York,” Mr. Lynskey said, holding a grocery bag filled with cookies and cakes he had brought as a gesture of gratitude, along with handwritten notes of thanks. “There is a lot of good left in the world,” he said to the firefighters, “and you guys are a part of it.”
For Firefighters Montalbano and Aquilina, it was also an unusual experience. Both said they had never before had the opportunity to reconnect with someone they had saved. They said they were honored by Mr. Lynskey’s appreciation but seemed uneasy with the fanfare.
“It’s just part of the job,” Firefighter Aquilina said of risking his own life to save another.
“Climbing under the train is part of the job description,” said Firefighter Montalbano.
Far more willing to marvel at their heroics was Robert S. Tucker, the commissioner, who worked in the private sector before Mayor Eric Adams appointed him as the administrative head of the department last August.
“Every day is extraordinary,” Mr. Tucker said of the fire department’s deeds. “I’m not desensitized to it. I don’t say, ‘You know, that’s just what we do.’ I’m like: ‘Wait, what? You did what?’”
After the commissioner presented Mr. Lynskey with a Fire Department challenge coin and T-shirts, more than a dozen men, the saved and saviors, settled into the kitchen in the back of the firehouse. They gathered around a long wooden table for coffee, cookies and babka — amid huge pots and pans and shelves full of spices — and remembered the fateful moments when their lives intersected.
There was plenty of laughter. When one firefighter noted that they drove the fire rig from West 19th Street to the subway entrance at Seventh Avenue and West 18th Street, Mr. Lynskey quipped, “That’s a pretty easy commute for New York City.”
Mr. Lynskey said he had tried not to stew in negativity. “I’m just trying to focus on whatever positives I can take from this experience,” he said. He said he thought often of the risk the firefighters took to save him. “And I’m sure some of you have families,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.
After about an hour, Mr. Lynskey left the firehouse to make his way home to Brooklyn. He took care to avoid walking by the subway station where he had been shoved and waited for an Uber.
Later in the afternoon, reflecting on the experience, he said the meeting with the firefighters who saved him had surpassed his hopes.
“I wanted to look them both in the eye and say, ‘I know that this is your job, but what you do is an incredible part of keeping the city alive and keeping this city going,’” Mr. Lynskey said. “But I was just kind of awe-struck by their bravery and what they do every day when they go to work.”