New York City: Talking with Strangers


New York City:

There’s no place better for conversations with strangers.

“clast [klast] noun, Geology: a constituent fragment of a clastic rock.” Hence the term iconoclast: a person who attacks cherished beliefs or institutions. I love both the word and the action.

So here I go again, attacking another cherished belief: People in New York City are unfriendly and standoffish. While an argument can be made for the latter (a result of the crowds in our busses, subways and on our sidewalks) the former is an utter fallacy.

I can’t state the premise of this essay much better than I did in chapter seven of Three Stages: … I must debunk a common misconception about New York City in general. Outlanders are of the opinion that we New Yorkers are unfriendly, even hostile to tourists and sometimes one another. To quote the King of Siam (from “The King and I”), “This is a lie, a false lie.” Manhattan is compact, less than thirty-four square miles, and the daytime population is around four million. Not only that but most of us use public transportation, and the busses and subways force a physical proximity that engenders what I call an invisible plastic bubble with which each of us surrounds ourselves to maintain (the illusion of) a modicum of personal space.

Not really crowded subway car

Not really crowded subway car

Thus we walk around briskly as much as possible ignoring one another. But when a needy person somehow pierces that bubble we are as friendly/unfriendly, helpful/unhelpful as the average person in Toledo. … My first few weeks in The City I must have asked a dozen or more strangers on the street for directions or assistance in finding my way and not a single one refused to help me. I did get incorrect information once or twice but aid was always readily offered and never denied.

Fifty-two years later, having resided in The Big Apple the entire time, I can tell you from extensive dealings with strangers that we new Yorkers are as friendly and inclusionary a tribe as you will find on this continent. All one need do is pierce the “plastic bubble” and that’s easily done.

Midtown Street Crowd

Midtown Street Crowd

The tragic events on 9/11 temporarily eliminated those plastic bubbles from most of us and for a couple of weeks or so Manhattan was more like a small town. People – strangers – grouped on street corners bemoaning the horror we all shared. But within a month things were back to normal, plastic bubbles firmly in place.

This brings me to the experiences this week that prompted the title, conversations with strangers. If you live in a small town and haven’t spent much time in a big city what follows will not seem remarkable but if you’re an urbanite, take heed. (I’m also a fan of gadzookery. [British: the use of archaisms]) Anyhow two events yesterday prompted this writing, a third was added today and they are typical examples of conversations with strangers.

Crossing upper Broadway through a traffic jam I found myself a few feet behind a very large and fit young man who could have been an offensive lineman for the Giants or Jets. Gracefully he zigzagged between the cars and trucks and I stayed right on his tail experiencing a flashback to my days as a fullback following my blocker through the line. It was actually a bit of a rush (no pun intended) and when we reached the eastern sidewalk, noticing his ear buds, I tapped him on the shoulder. His first glance at this old white guy immediately informed him that I was no threat. I grinned and told him about my football flashback and he laughed and gave me a high five.

A few minutes later I was in a store which, typically in Manhattan, had aisles half an inch wider than the grocery carts. There was a couple in the nut bin section who were after pretty much the same nuts as I was and we kept sort of bumping into one another. When the woman said “Sorry” for the third time I laughingly said, “No need to apologize. We’re just doing the nut dance.” This exchange sparked a friendly discussion about accents, birthplaces and taste in music that was a delight to all three of us. It was brief but friendly and we all went to the checkout with smiles on our faces.

I came home and began writing this essay.

Today while waiting for Elizabeth in Central Park I sat down on a bench overlooking a pond next to a guy with an extremely cute little mutt.

Central Park Pond

Central Park: the New York City Oasis

The doggie wagged his tail, I gave him a pat and went back to reading my eBook. Then I recalled that I was in the middle of this piece and decided to start a conversation with this particular stranger. It was an excellent decision. I made a complimentary comment about his canine and the conversation took off from there.

Hilliard and I chatted away for half an hour until I had to leave. We talked about our military experiences, our relationships, living in The City; I don’t even remember what all but I do remember how convivial and interesting it was. And I told him what a delightful addition our conversation would make to this bit of writing.

So, as the old Wells, Rich, Greene Alka-Seltzer spot advised: Try it. You’ll like it.

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