Lost People

New York, NY - Peter - Wednesday, April 10th, 2002 : goo

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Sometimes this odd notion passes through my head; the rather abstract concept that some people are part of some greater something; good people, quality people concerned with more than the usual trappings of your average, fad-craving, commercially-motivated, shallow New Yorker. This thought is kind of hard to put into text, though.

It's curiously rewarding when my path crosses one of these sorts of people in the course of the average day. It amuses me to no end when, even for just a few fleeting moments, NYC becomes a tightly enough knit place where you run into people you knew on the subways, or have chit-chat with someone you see each day while commuting. It can be quite surreal.

I have some good conversations with people on the bus now and then; probably people I'd never be bothered to think twice about if we weren't stuck sitting next to each other on the same crosstown route, day in and day out; it's all quite interesting, the way people and schedules interconnect.

The same goes for the entrance guard at my office. Scores- literally, hundreds, maybe even a thousand- of people pass him in a day without so much as an acknowledgment. Similarly, he remains stoic, as septically distanced from them as they are from him; he is but a mere fixture. But, for some reason, when I pass, we talk. Just a short exchange about the day, the weather, or the general vibe of the city. I don't know why I pause for the 20 seconds or so of fellowship. I never introduced myself, and certainly don't know his name or what he does beyond his 4 hour shift at the door during leaving-time. As a matter of fact, I don't even know how we started talking; it actually seems like we always have, just growing from a "hello" the first time I passed, and growing, two years later, into our mini-conversations, conversations that seemed superficial to me until I realized that these might be the only moments of human interaction he has during his whole shift.

He's one of those people. The random humans now and then that you make some sort of connection with, no matter how superficially or for what reason; the people that make you feel connected to something friendly and energetic that thrives outside of the blank faces of countless passersby in whats a hectic, and often bleak, city.

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len: thank you

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