by I spent some time in New York City this weekend, and at some point between pushing past slow tourists and instinctively dodging comedy show promoters, I couldn’t help thinking about the oddness of city life and the East coast in general. Having grown up in New Jersey and spending plenty of time in New York, I usually follow the unspoken rule of, well, not speaking.
People in the Northeast often have reputations for being brusque and rushed, and as we squeeze into subways together as strangers or wait in line for a bite to eat, the most interaction we usually give and get is a quick smile.
In addition to that “hurry up” mentality (after all, it is the city that never sleeps), there is the inevitable sense of danger and paranoia that comes with navigating New York City. As glamorous as the location sometimes seems, its population (like that of any big city) is far from a friendly utopia.
A seasoned New Yorker knows to keep his or her eyes forward and to treat the average person with just a little trepidation, while gleeful tourists stop to chat with everyone they see. The mixture provides for an odd atmosphere of both friendliness and coldness—and that had never seemed clearer to me as it did this Saturday, when a man approached me at a crosswalk and said, “Hello.”
The guy was clad in a stained button-down shirt and blue jeans, and gave me a small smile past his gray five o’clock shadow. My immediate thought was that he was standing too close to me, and my second thought was to tighten my grip on my keys in my coat pocket. The sun was rapidly going down, and most people would agree that being alone on a city street suddenly seems much more ominous at nighttime.
I was instantly paranoid while also mentally chiding myself for being so distrustful, but anyone who watches the news a lot can hardly assume the best in people. New York City is a place for wonderful coincidences and bumping elbows with future lovers, but it is also a place where you need to keep alert.
After mentally arguing with myself for a couple of seconds that felt endless, I took the easy way out. I wish I could say that I suddenly gained a friendly, Southern mentality, or that we had a rare chat as bored strangers. But on this dark street in this big city, the halfhearted “hi” I returned to him was hardly out of my mouth before I hurried away and crossed the street against the traffic light.
This is a frightful, human, story, Emily! I like how you set up the tension like a coil and then ended the tale for us just as abruptly as it ended for you — as a race against fear!
Thanks David– the quick ending (in real life and in written form) made me think of all the missed connections and stories that I must hurry through every day without even noticing.
You were definitely smart to run, Emily! You have good instincts and you let them guide you!
I’m not used to people giving me more than a quick smile when walking past me either. I completely understand your shock when someone actually spoke real words to you, especially when it was beginning to get dark too.
I’m glad you understand! I had to wonder if I overreacted, but I just didn’t expect it as I was walking along in my own little world.
Makes me wonder why he said hello at all. Maybe he just thought you looked nice and wanted to say hi! Wishful thinking, perhaps.
I wondered the same thing! As I walked away I thought to myself, “wow, what a pessimistic reaction that was,” but I guess I’ll never know.
A very brief encounter …………………..
VERY brief. If I had stayed to chat, this article might have turned out much differently (or more dramatic)!