Do I know you?

It is so cold in New York right now that I’m actually considering buying a sleeping bag, cutting out a hole for my head and wearing it as a coat. Right now it’s 23 degrees, but feels like 13, which is actually a bit tropical compared to the last few days.

Luckily New York is a city of snugglers, so should I venture onto the subway or into a store, there will always be some good Samaritan warming me up, whether I like it or not. It’s actually something that took a lot of getting used to, especially coming from D.C. where people like to keep each other at arm’s length. On the packed orange line from D.C. to Virginia, everyone looks at the ceiling as if they are gasping for air, like they could actually drown in the surrounding bodies. In New York, I’ll get on a half-empty car, reach for the filthy, silver bar above me and some guy will inevitably curl up under my armpit. Was no one hugged as a child in this city? Why does everyone seem to crave human contact?

This “friendliness” manifests itself in other ways too. I feel like I’m constantly having a conversation with strangers, none of which I initiate, because HELLO, I’m from D.C. People in Washington actually read the newspaper or a book while they walk to work (which I don’t recommend, by the way. It’s dangerous. And really nerdy). They have no interest in the people around them.

I compared notes with another redheaded friend the other day. She confirmed that she too gets “hey there Red” about five times a week. Whenever I’m carrying groceries home from the store, someone asks me if I need help. The other day I was walking home and some man stopped me and said, “what’s that for?” pointing to the yoga mat sticking out of my bag. Once I told him, he wanted to know a lot more about yoga. At some point, I had to tell him that I was in a rush because I wasn’t in the mood to describe every last detail of my fitness regimen, but I immediately felt badly, because as I walked away he was so endearing: “well okay then. See you soon!” as if we were old friends.

Of course this strange pseudo-familiarity also has its down sides. It would seem that people will say just about anything to anyone, no matter how vulgar or inappropriate. The other day, my friend Staley was walking to work and a man who was walking past her leaned close to her ear and said something like, “hey there sexy.” Staley was more concerned with the fact that the guy was dressed normally, like he too was off to work, than the actual content of his message. Another friend wandered out of a bookstore and was confronted with another book-shopper who said, “fucking white bitch” for no apparent reason as she walked past him. Luckily this Birmingham native has a response for such comments. She simply says, “God bless ya” in her southern twang. If nothing else, I’m sure it catches the perpetrators completely off-guard.

Just last night my roommate and I were walking through a subway station on our way to her birthday dinner when a man stopped in his tracks, stared at us and bellowed “OHHHH YEAHHHHHH!” then watched us walk past as we grimaced with embarrassment. Just when I wanted to say, “I hate it here,” a guy started chasing after my roommate, yelling, “miss! Miss!”

Oh God, what now? I wondered. The man came right up next to her and set his shoe next to her high-heeled boot. I slowly realized that he was trying to detach a piece of paper (or toilet paper? or something!) that had stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“ I didn’t want you walking around all night like that,” he told her.

“That was so nice,” I mused after he walked away. “In D.C. people would have seen the paper, watched you walk past and chuckled to themselves. Isn’t New York the greatest?”