January 10: The Wheelchair Looper

We've all seen those determined little faces, riding in their motorized wheelchairs, zipping down streets and sidewalks, watching the crowds part the ways and give them space as they hold that little joystick of direction down more furiously than ever.

I wasn't surprised when I saw this as I walked out the door of my work, into the cold winter night. I waited patiently for this man to pass before I headed to the crosswalk. But then, he did something interesting...

In the middle of sidewalk, he turned... and turned, turned turned. He did a loop... then shot off in the direction that he had been going anyway. Just a little celebratory circle. I loved it.

January 9: The Guy Who Gave $10 To Subway Performers

I'm all for the arts, but sometimes I get annoyed with the subway performers in New York. I mean, every moment, every day, every one is always trying to fill every facial orifice you have... trying to shove things in your ears, your nose, down your throat. Sometimes I just want to stand in the aisle and listen to my own music! But you have to move out of the way and they're too loud to ignore.

So after shopping at Trader Joe's, I was on the express train from 72nd Street down to Times Square when three kids came on and put on a ghetto blaster, clapping and flipping away. I edged to the door and toed my bag of groceries closer to me, and sat thinking in my head. To be honest, they weren't the best I had ever seen or heard, and no one seemed particularly enthused.

I was surprised when, upon the usual finale ("Thank you ladies and gentlemen, God bless, any donations appreciated and we wish you pleasant travels!") a man across from me, an older man looking monotonous and bored with a job that required a photo security badge that was still strung on his belt loop, started clapping and smiling. When the young kid came around, the man held out and gave him... A $10 BILL.

I've never seen anyone give more than $3, and never in bigger denominations that $1 bills, and even that was a stretch. Usually it was the silver change left in overcoats or jeans pockets. But oh, I wouldn't mistake the sepia tone of that $10 bill for anything. I must have been gaping because he looked at me and we made eye contact and he shrugged.

Like I said, I'm all for the arts, but not sure I'd be enough to drop a $10 bill. At least not in this state. But it was nice to see the generosity for something that really made his day.

January 8: The Bitchy Ex-Boyfriend

I felt like a classy lady when I went to v{iv} Thai restaurant in Hell's Kitchen with a friend. It's just done up in nice lights and classy furniture like you get in New York.

My friend and I couldn't help but notice the couple that sat next to us, and not for any real reason. They were a couple, and held hands, and kissed across the table, and were cute together. But then...!

Up saunters a very tall, very fit, very attractive man, who knew one of the guys.

"Hey you...! How are you?" he asks. He seems to expect the guy to get up, to hug him, to kiss his cheeks, and catch up.

Everyone looked uncomfortable. Both of the couple, and me and my friend. This hot ex-boyfriend was working it, and didn't bother to give one shred of acknowledgment or greeting to the new guy, who sat there, probably terrified this was going to "mean" something in the end. I just felt a little mal-intent on his end and felt so sad for what looked like a great relationship that he was dragging across the sand, just to be bitchy. To be fair, I guess I couldn't really judge his intentions, and intent is nine-tenths of the law. I believe all's fair in love and war, but I also believe some things are still sacred. But honestly I was probably just annoyed cause I was really rooting for that couple and then the hot guy had to go and probably make the other one super insecure. And also, why are the hot ones always bitchy?

January 7: The Stranger-Turn-Friend

In New York City, you need two perceptions to survive:

1. The ability to be open and adapt to anyone you meet, and
2. The ability to be on your guard and wary of anyone you meet

The trick is knowing when to do which. When you're a single woman hanging out at a bar, you tend to go for option 2. But hey, sometimes you're wrong.

I recognized this guy from my year at the bar. I knew he frequented there, and honestly, though I had no desire to talk to him despite him talking to a lot of the same people I might on another day, or reminding me of someone from home, inevitably we crossed paths.

I did the small talk scene. We had a mutual barfly-friend between us that helped break the ice and keep a buffer, but then he dropped a bomb on me: he was an MFA Fiction student at the institution and in the program that I had been looking into for myself.

Before I knew it, I was going at a mile a minute asking questions and getting his insight on the program, other programs, application process, lifestyle and future of someone in this program, and he was only happy to reciprocate. He knew of someone who could help me even further with my own situation and offered to put us in touch.

I just figured it was so ironic that one of the only regulars I hadn't bothered to know turned out to have more in common with me than any of the others. He was a stranger-turned-friend in one day. Still, better to be wary of a sane person than open to an insane one. I stand by my decision!

January 6: The Man Who Orders From The First Person He Sees

My friends and I wandered into a very confusing sushi restaurant. It was a basement-level place in Queens and upon entering, you're confront with two doors. Although the glass doors show that both lead to sushi restaurants, they look entirely different, and have a few signs:

Take Out
(with an arrow pointing to the right)

Please Wait To Be Seated

Which do we do? In the end we simply opened the door to the right and asked for a table, which we were immediately shown to. Easy enough, I suppose.

Halfway through our meal, I noticed a very... American man. Portly, pale and adorned with a trucker's hat, standing not only in the middle of the aisle, but blocking a waiter's way into the kitchen. A waiter holding a steel icy jug of water clearly on his way to refill glasses for the tables, by the way.

"Yeah, I want edamame and California rolls and rice," he was saying.

The waiter looked almost so confused that he might cry.

"That's what I want to order for take out," the man clarified. He wasn't being rude in an aggressive way, but he sure was being thoughtless. It was clear that he either completely passed the front counter, or else was impatient if no one was there, and just marched in to the first person he could find and was placing his order.

I couldn't pay much more attention to the situation, as my friends were clamoring for my opinion on the trainwreck of a movie we had just seen (Les Mis), but I couldn't help but think what a curious society we've set up that we feel our needs are so above any sort of patience or order sometime. It just made me laugh to think he could be so out of touch with his surroundings. I guess we're all that person at some point or another though.

January 5: The Paul Rudd Type

I do a lot of things in the city to break up the monotony of every day living. (Spoiler alert: a 9-to-5 job is still a 9-to-5 job whether you're in New York City or Lubbock, Texas). I took an acting class and ended up sitting next to a very pleasant fellow. The dressed-up-hipster type who wore a vest. We were given dialogue sides and though we all scribbled notes, I saw he wrote "Paul Rudd, Leslie Mann" on his.

It seemed fairly clairvoyant because the dialogue was exactly something out of a Judd Apatow movie that would star those two, but then I also noticed that he bore a striking resemblance to Paul Rudd as well. I'm guessing that Paul Rudd is his hero and that he could incorporate Paul Rudd into everything, including himself.

It was a little endearing because I imagined this guy going home to a room of ripped-out posters of Paul Rudd from Teen Beat taped by his bed and daily affirmations of Paul Rudd quotes on his bathroom mirror. Guys deserve crushes just like girls! I admit I have a Stephen Colbert corner in my own room. And come on, who doesn't like Paul Rudd?

January 4: The Pool Boys

We were four girls a dive bar on a Friday night with a mixed array of drinks. They were boys at the pool table with beers on the counter. I was content where I was in the booth, but one of the girls wanted in on a game of pool. I was wary. I knew boys and their games. I was hard pressed to ever be let into a game of darts at this establishment with their crowd.

But don't tell that to Tay. Up she sauntered to that chalkboard and in a flurry of chalk dust added her name to the list. She came back to our table for all of a few minutes before a cheery lad approached us.

"Which one's Tay?" He asked it in such a friendly way I wanted to tell him to pull up a chair and join us.

"That's me," she smiled.

"You're up!" he said, and led the way back to the pool table.

I stole glances of them back there, and was more than a little surprised to see how nice him and his friends were being, and none of them seemed to be doing it for any sort of gain; no one seemed to be hitting on Tay or even just humoring her. They just seemed cool.

This should probably be expected behavior, but sometimes we should probably still take the time out to tell people when we appreciate those everyday niceties, which are what really matter in the end.