Bonding with Strangers

A city girl in a small town

One thing about New York that people who have never lived here get wrong is thinking that New Yorkers are rude. This is because we don't often say hi to each other on the street, don't always make small talk in coffee shop lines, and sometimes we don't even know our neighbors. But just because we aren't overly friendly doesn't mean we're rude. We are just minding our own business. That isn't to say people won't ever be friendly and helpful; I've had more wonderful interactions with strangers in this city than I have anywhere else. Once I was crying on a stoop in Greenwich Village and a couple stopped to make sure I was okay and stayed to make me laugh until I had stopped crying enough to walk to the subway. Once I befriended a girl on the train as we tried to find our way through the maze of train track switches back to Queens. It almost makes the moments like that even more magical, because they're not everyday occurrences. (The only exception being bar bathrooms. I think making friends in bar bathrooms is practically a universal experience.)

That said, it's always striking when I visit a city that IS overly friendly. I will never not startle a little when a random person walking by says "hi" as if we've met before. Even though I have the kind of face that makes my ride share drivers tell me their life story or tourists walk by a hundred people just to ask me for directions, the only people in New York who try to say hi to you as you walk by are the Greenpeace or religious people who want your money or soul. This weekend, my dad and I went on another one of our road trips to see local theater, and even though we technically didn't even leave New York City, we were just way out there on Long Island, the vibes were a bit different. A little more small-town.

The first thing I noticed, besides the strangers saying hi, was when my father and I were in the theater waiting for the show to start. We were sitting at the end of the row, and whenever we had to move to let someone get to or from their seats in the middle of the row, you would have thought they asked us to cut off our own legs for them. They were so gracious and apologetic - and don't get me wrong, going to the theater in the city proper, people are usually politely grateful, but this was next level. But also relatable! I hate making people move! I'm probably overly apologetic when I do it, but this was the whole row of people!

My next clue that we weren't in Kansas the city anymore was during intermission. I went to the restroom, and while I was waiting in line, the woman behind me said she liked my docs. I had on my purple (vegan) Doc Martens that my friend gave me for my birthday last year, and when I turned around, the person paying me the compliment was the coolest older woman I've ever seen, complete with a leather jacket and well-loved docs of her own. I thanked her and said I liked hers too and she shrugged and said, "oh these are just my basics." An icon, a legend. Flying high from that compliment, after I go to the bathroom, I end up leaving my phone in the stall. Embarrassed, I pivoted on my heel before I left the bathroom, and nervously explained to the people at the front of the line what happened. They all gave me huge sympathetic smiles and suggested I just go ask the person in there for it. Horrified by this suggestion, I told them it's fine and I'd just grab it when they come out if they didn't mind, and they laughed and said it's totally fine. Then they tell me they like my purple docs! I was amazed, because first of all, this is far from the first time I've worn these, but the first time anyone has commented on them at all, let alone multiple people. Second of all, it's not even like I've put together a proper outfit for these docs. I was wearing black skinny jeans and an Are You Afraid of the Dark? t-shirt. (We were seeing The Addams Family and it felt appropriately spooky. And I learned from the last time we went to this specific theater that there is no dress code here; there were men in sweatpants and work boots in the audience.) The women at the front of the line were so kind while I stood there awkwardly and seemed genuinely relieved when I bopped in and out of the stall, phone in hand, happy I was successful. And THEN on the way back to my seat, another woman stopped me and said she loved my purple docs! Maybe they don't have a lot of lesbians in that part of Long Island?? After I beamed at her and thanked her and started to walk away, I heard her husband say, "What are docs?"

At one point everyone was being so nice I was momentarily afraid I was on some kind of hidden camera show and being pranked, but by the time we left after the show, it was clear that these theatergoers were just...VERY nice. (Also the show was a delight! Well, the show itself is...fine. A lot of unnecessary songs and subplots in my opinion, but the performances were outstanding.)

I convinced myself that maybe theater people are just a superior class, but then my dad and I went to get a late dinner at the only place we could find open after 10pm, a sports bar called Tap Room. While we ate, I watched two tables of men behind us start to talk to each other about sports, and one man was getting more things wrong than if I had joined the conversation, but the other guys were just gently correcting him and chatting away. Then at one point they made the mistake of talking about a Boston sports team within earshot of my father, and he chimed in. And I winced, because you just never know how that's going to go, but they just welcomed him right into the conversation. Didn't even give him shit for his signature Red Sox hat. I wasn't sure what in the Pleasantville was going on, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth and just smiled into my Beyond burger.

I personally prefer our New York way of life - I am an introvert and if I had to say hi to and/or make small talk with every stranger I interacted with, I would be constantly burned out - but it's fun to visit these places now and again, especially with my extrovert of a father, and see what it's like in other places. I love when we can tell someone in the audience personally knows one of the performers, or when people in the crowd run into people they know. When we went to see Heathers in Delaware, it was clear that the men who sang "My Dead Gay Son" were members of the community - my guess is teachers based on the age of the people screaming for them. It was such a fun vibe. I don't think I would ever want to live in a small town, but I do love being part of one every so often, just for a moment.