My first encounter occurred not even 12 hours after arriving in the city. SATURDAY, JUNE 25TH while walking back to my apartment after semi-aimlessly wandering the city, my mother and I ran into a man about my height, but half my weight and sporting tight fitting, faded jeans paired with a loose-fitting yellow, sun-beaten t-shirt. He was also wearing sunglasses with some funky kind of blue tinted lenses that were just barely noticeable under his shaggy curly white hair on his head that enveloped his face. What was even more distracting if possible, was what I at first assumed to be a small furry white bear that he was walking on a leash. Ends up my mother knew what kind of dog breed it was, the name escapes my memory, and the man and my mother ended up bonding over this "gentle giant". A couple walking by evidently did not eavesdrop on this conversation since they nearly sprinted into oncoming traffic when the dog started barking, out of fear ironically, at a pigeon that was waddling just a little to close for comfort. The man chuckled in an awkward high-pitched manner that reminded me, for whatever reason, of an elf and explained that his dog liked “to talk”. Apparently sixteen years ago when this man was living in Queens, he found his dog hiding under the bed after his apartment had been broken into! We awkwardly followed the man and his dog for another block in a half until they either felt that we were stalking them, or coincidentally turned onto their home street.
MONDAY, JUNE 26TH. On my way to work I happened to noticed a guy reading Catch-22 (one of my favorite books.) It wasn't so much of a coincidence considering that we were all packed into the subway car like sardines, and he shoved the book into my face when the conductor appeared to have forgotten that he needed to let army of businessmen and women off at 14th Street/Union Square. People, I've noticed, love to talk about themselves. He was in his mid-twenties, and didn't have the stereotypical features of a serial killer, so I asked him basic questions about his life story. In this way I learned that he had majored in History at Duke, but minored in Music (his specialty being the trombone, which I thought was fascinating since I'd never before met a trombone player). The most striking part of this encounter was that as he excited to get off at his work stop, waving over his shoulder, was the fact that I found it weird to think that I’d probably never see him again. Guess what...I haven't
TUESDAY, JUNE 27TH. Not going to lie, when I first met the man who helped me set up my New York Sports Club membership I totally jumped to conclusions thinking that he was a high school drop out (he rode a razor scooter to work for crying out loud...not that there's anything wrong with that if a razor is your preferred method of transportation to work). Ends up he had previously been a speech writer for the governor of Texas! After finally becoming disillusioned with the world of politics he quit his job, moved up to New York City, and dropped 250 lbs. And to think I learned all of this from asking him about the clear glass, Texas-shaped paperweight engraved with the governor's insignia I noticed on the corner of his desk while he was processing my paperwork!
SUNDAY, AUGUST 7TH. Spotted in the West Village...woman wearing RIDICULOUSLY LARGE sunglasses as part of her "normal" attire. Only in NYC!
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 3RD
You know that times have become desperate when men are pimping themselves...outside of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
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| Sadly, I didn't meet any of his criteria |
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 24TH
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 11TH
I don't know what it is about me, but people in New York feel inclined to share all their personal life stories and experiences with me in the most random locations. For instance, just the other day, this rather chubby, freckle-faced, red hair boy, with eyes that I suspect were blue, but considering his massive hangover had assumed a rather alarming blood-shot red shade, turned to me and asked "Excuse me, but on a scale from 1-10 how tired to I look?" Rather taken aback by the fact that he was actually talking to me on the morning commute, I replied, "Well considering that you're even asking me, I'm going to have to say a 9." I stuffed my face quickly back to my book since I have a low tolerance for frat boys, and anyone who even slightly resembles a frat boy. He was adamant and either didn't notice, or chose to ignore my body language that I was not interested in continuing this conversation since I frankly could care less how crazy things got last night. He had the audacity to ask me to take my sunglasses off and really look him in the face. I just stared at him and replied "I don't think so" but then wished him a good day and good luck avoiding his boss since he was apparently already half an hour late for work. All in all there were no tearful goodbyes as he used an inordinate amount of energy to hoist his Jansport backpack off the ground and onto his back. It was, nevertheless, an entertaining encounter.
Additionally, later that day I had my check out boy at Trader Joe's inform me that he prefers coffee to smoking weed since the pot makes him "more lethargic". I remarked, "You're kidding me, huh, go figure!" I don't think he picked up on the sarcasm in my voice, and seemingly encouraged to finally have someone listening to him added, "Yeah, you know coffee is a drug." Needless to say, it was not a stimulating conversation, so I simultaneously grabbed my bags, waved good bye, and told him not to fall asleep in central park (it was his first day working the morning shift). I hope the next time I go do my grocery shopping that I can get my other cashier, the aspiring actor who asked me the first time if I was an actress. It is remarkably easy to flatter me, and out of curiosity asked him why he thought I was an actress (perhaps my charm, sparkling personality, or natural beauty). To my disappointment he said nonchalantly, actually in an almost disappointed voice, "Oh well everyone who I meet seems to be an actor or actress." So much for my charm and beauty!
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 20TH
Just when I thought I had seen it all with the Occupy Wall Street Protestors, a homeless man upstaged them. After a long day of work, all I wanted was to get home, throw up some sweats, cook dinner, and then curl up in bed while listening to the rain patter against the darkened window pane. This one particularly homeless man decided to spice up my day. As soon as I walked onto the 1 local uptown train, he began to go on a rant. Something, if memory serves me correctly, about having a dream, R. Kelly, Obama, and Michael Jackson. Then, realizing that no one was paying him any attention, he decided to get proactive.
The transition from preacher to Usher-influenced performer was smooth and impeccable. He merely reached into his tattered, over-sized plaid jacket, drew out a disposable coffee cup with a few coins inside, and then began shaking it to a familiar beat. It was one of those things where I knew that I had heard that beat before, but just couldn't but my finger on it...that is until he started singing it. The tune was "Get Low" by Lil John. What was even more impressive is that the homeless man actually had moves to accompany his singing. It was basically an impromptu strip tease on the subway. The ironic part was that despite that the car was filled beyond capacity and I was helplessly trapped in a wall of bodies, the man had managed to move his way to the pole closest to me, so that when he "back, back, backed it up" he was backing it up right into me. Fortunately, I my stop was the next stop, and I managed to survive without too much emotional scarring.
