SelfAbsorbed.ME : ‘It’s Your Life, We Just Write it Funnier’

Springtime: the favored season for running into people you’d forgotten roamed this earth, and a few that you counted on never seeing again. Since our recent bout of warm weather, people have swarmed the streets. I’ve spotted a grand total of eight individuals that I know. I’ve talked to three.

It’s not that I’m unfriendly, but so often these interactions result in the exchange of cell phone numbers for lack of anything else to talk about. Or the conversation is pushed along with socially expected niceties until it finally falls off a cliff into the fatal abyss of silence. And we just kind of stand there, looking down and thinking, Oh, well, uh, there it goes.

However, run-ins are unavoidable, especially in the case of someone spotting me first. One such instance occurred yesterday afternoon (and then reoccurred in a nightmare I had last night).

“Hey, did we go to college together?”

A smiling, vaguely familiar face appears frozen and inquisitive in front of me, the final obstacle between me and the ’wichcraft coffee stand in Bryant Park, just across the way from where I’m standing on the corner of 42 Street and 6th. My response is delayed, for my mind has been doggedly running on one track since I’d gotten up from my cubicle two minutes earlier: caffeine. “Iced coffee…iced coffee…iced coffee,” sings my mind’s broken record–but it seems that this girl in front of me has gone and lifted the needle. I manage to pry my eyes from the prize: the stand, a mere 20 or 30 paces away. Oh yeah. This girl’s name escapes me–we’re not even Facebook friends–but she was in my intro psych lecture a couple of years ago.

“Oh–hey,” I respond. “Yeah…How are you?”
“I’m doing well, how are you?”
“You know, fine. You work around here?”
“Yeah, I’m in this general vicinity, you?”
“Yeah.” I just kind of nod my head. Here we reach a crossroads. I could ask her about her job, where she lives, how she likes New York, and so on and so forth. We might even exchange cell phone numbers. But we’d never actually call each other. The phone number would just lie comatose in my cell, a social vegetable. Or I could pull the plug right now.
“Well, it was great running into you!” I give her a big smile–a genuine one too, inspired by the thought, It’s almost over.
“Yeah, totally! You too!” she says. Then, without a beat, “So, do you have a moment for world hunger?”

I stand there for a second, at a loss of what to say. That’s when I notice she’s holding a clipboard. She’s a canvasser?! I think about just running away, but we’ve already been talking. I can’t be rude to someone with whom I’ve already exchanged pleasantries.

“Uhhh, I actually have to get back to the office,” I say, though the statement comes out more like a question. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, come on. Just one more minute of your time. I know you. It’s not like I’m some random person!”
But you don’t know me, I feel like telling her. We’ve never uttered a word to each other before today!
Instead I say, “Yeah, but I really do have to get back to the office. It was good seeing you though. Good luck–”
“Please,” she interrupts. “I’m just asking for a little of your time. It’s for a very important cause.”
“I know,” I tell her. She’s cornering me. “I think what you’re doing is great, really admirable, but I just can’t commit to it right now. I, uh, I like to do a lot of research online before I commit to a cause.”
“Oh, come on, you don’t trust me?” She maintains the same friendly smile on her face, despite her increasing aggression.
No, I don’t trust you. We’ve never spoken before! If only I had the gall to make my inner-monologue the real deal.
“Look,” I tell her. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just really have to go.”
“So you had a moment to talk to some random girl from college that you weren’t even really friends with, but you don’t have time to concern yourself with children dying of starvation?”
Whoa. She’s turned a corner and is heading full-speed in a dangerous direction.
“Is this like a new canvassing technique or something?” I ask, too shocked to be upset. “Because it’s kind of unpleasant.”
“No! I just think it’s a little absurd. I mean, now we’ve been talking for more than a minute about how you can’t spare a moment of your time. This is a really important cause. You can’t even listen as a favor to me, someone you actually know?”
“Enough!” I snap. My patience is gone. “We don’t know each other. I don’t even know your name!”

Without waiting for a response, I turn and head back to the office, possessing neither iced coffee nor my composure. Worst of all, I feel guilty for neglecting world hunger. This whole experience only further enforces my belief in avoiding recognizable figures of the past. From now on, when I step out onto the streets of New York, I’ll spare a moment to look for the familiar faces that may threaten unwanted conversation. Sure, this seems paranoid, but it’s all for a good cause.

Photo Credit: Flickr.com