A “moment” from each month I spent in NYC. Sometimes tasty, always tRuthful.
Month 12: April 2013
I’ve been pacing this same sectioned-off block for 15 minutes. There’s a street fair going on, but I’m not here for fried calamari–I’m here to feel invisible. I have a date with a guy a block away in 5 minutes, and the slow strolling through thick crowds of tourists and NYU students seems the best way to remain unnoticed in a time of high emotional stakes. I’m really early. Why am I always so early? I begin another lap around the fair, carefully dodging eye contact with everybody. If anybody caught a glimpse into my eyes for even a half second, they would know everything. “Look at how nervous that girl is,” they’d think. “She’s about to go on a date but would rather bury herself in a pile of wet sand.” I suspect even the sweaty festival-goers who don’t look at me are tempted to think such thoughts–I’m shedding nerve waves at an incredibly high frequency. How much further can I retract into myself while still appearing human? No, I don’t want a grilled corn on the cob. No, I don’t want three bracelets for $1. No, I don’t want to throw a ball at your stack of jars that will never fall down anyway.
“I’m here.” his text reads. He’s here.