I was walking out of the subway, up the steps and into Union Square. It was 6:15 PM. Class was at 6:30 and the train had been slower than normal, not that normal makes much of a difference. The N Train seems to be notorious for its speed, or lack thereof should I say. In addition to that, the worst traffic comes down to maneuvering around the people on the streets (dada-dee-da-day) and today was Wednesday, which meant the Farmers Market was there. Every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday the Union Square Farmers Market sets up shop and gets flooded with browsers, all clumped together in groups of threes and fours, sampling apples on toothpicks and moving together at a sloth-like pace.
I wasn't angry about it or anything, you really can't be angry. I'm a big fan of farmers markets myself, and a New York crowd is a New York crowd. But it's frustrating when you are trying to get somewhere, like when you're driving and you can't seem to catch a green light for the love of all that is good.
So I'm walking with my headphones plugged into my ears, I don't even remember what song was playing. I think maybe it was 'Funny You Should Ask' by The Front Bottoms because I was walking along to the beat of something with a fast rhythm, and also because it's one of the top songs I listen to. Not that I have much of a choice in what I listen to nowadays; my iPhone is pretty screwed up, it only plays a handful of songs even though I've got like 600 in there, and when the song is finished playing it will repeat even though I don't have the repeat setting on. Somehow I haven't gotten tired of this limited selection, which also includes the entire soundtrack to The Last Five Years and Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World, but the day that I do will come eventually. I open up Pandora or 8Tracks, or even YouTube to listen to something different, but those require cell-phone service which they have not yet made possible for all New York City subway trains to have while they are underground. So I am forced to pick and choose the moments when I really feel that it requires music specifically from my library, and being in a hurry like this, I knew I didn't have time to choose from some app. The steadiness of the drums and constantly switching power chords on the electric guitar act as a flame under my butt to keep me moving fast.
The funny thing is, I knew that I probably wasn't going to be late. And even if I had been late this wasn't like school where they locked the doors right when the clock hit the time the class was scheduled to start. We weren't being graded, and this wasn't a lesson on punctuality. This was an adult class, for adult actors who wanted to improve their craft, and sometimes adults have to be late, so they come in late and they don't need an excuse for doing so. Adult or not, I still wanted to make a good impression, and I like showing up early because it means that there is a greater possibility I will get to see my old teachers walking through the lobby, even if it is a brief hello, hug, and how are you?' The Three H's, I should call them.
I'm on autopilot. A subconscious drill sergeant is giving me commands. "Walk fast, get to class, walk fast, get to class!" and my legs are trying to keep up when suddenly some young guy who looks like he came up from behind walks ahead of me and stops dead in his tracks, throwing me off guard. Not only is he standing still, but he is facing me, looking like he's trying to tell me something, offically breaking my concentration. His lips are moving but I can't hear what he's saying because of the music. "For Pete's sake", I think to myself, "how desperate are these people to try and corral you into whatever organization they are working for that they will jump right in front of you?" His lips were still moving, so I took off my headphones to politely tell him "No, thank you" and dodge that guilt-trip as soon as possible. It sounds bad, but when you live in this city sometimes you have to keep your head down and worry about yourself. But he wasn't trying to tell me about some organization he was working for. He was telling me that he saw me coming out of the Subway (or did he say he was on the train with me and saw me back there?), and that he "just had to say hi". And that he thought I was very pretty. I said the first thing that came to my mind which was "I have a class I have to get to, I'm so sorry". Like I said, I was a robot. Walk fast, get to class. He said "Well what time do you get off, maybe we can hang out or something. Maybe you could show me how to dye my hair that red color". I laughed, flattered, and politely apologized once more that I had a class I needed to get to. He didn't heckle me, or hound me about it. He just blinked and sweetly said with a smile, "Alright, take care", and walked away.
I kept moving forward, continuing on with my mission, and as I did the realization of what had just happened began to sink in more and more. Someone just told me they thought I was pretty. Now being told you are pretty is always nice, but it was way more than just that. I was unaware of my surroundings and I wasn't trying to act a certain way, just doing what I had to do, and a stranger saw me from a distance and went out of his way just to say "Hi." I mean, isn't that something? Isn't that what most of us have always dreamt of happening? In book stores while perusing the shelves, or sitting in the park, or on the train sneaking glances at a person at the opposite end of the car and secretly hoping they are sneaking glances at you too? I thought about all of this as I made my way up Broadway, and I immediately wished I could go back and handle the situation differently. I wished I had stopped to really listen to him for a few seconds. I wished I hadn't taken the moment for granted, and most of all I wished that I had gotten to tell him "Even though my heart is taken, I really commend you for putting yourself out there because what you did takes a lot of guts. It's something more men, and women for that matter need to do more often. Thank you for making my day."
On the other hand he could have been some player-creep lurking around to hit on random girls. Whatever he was, I crossed the street on 5th Avenue feeling a little taller, and with what felt like a newfound knowledge that anything really can happen.
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