Vampire in Times Square

You know that kid from the Sixth Sense movie, who sees people that no one else can see?  Sometimes, walking around New York City, I feel like I’m that kid.   I don’t know why it happens, or when, but living in this city somehow dulls our senses to notice anything out of the ordinary, or at least acknowledge that anything special is happening right in front of us.  When I flew back to the city after Christmas, Katie Holmes and Suri Cruise were on my plane.  Now, I understand they’re just people, and don’t want to be pestered, but not one other person on the entire flight seemed to care or notice.  And I’m not even a fan of Katie Holmes, but seriously??  I couldn’t even find one person to make eye contact with about it.  Suri was just eating her animal crackers in the front row of first class, and staring people down as we lowly economy seated people boarded – daring us to acknowledge her.  And every single passenger lost that staring contest.  Lost to a six year old. 

This morning I was walking in Times Square and this guy – who was well over six feet tall seemed to glide right past me – dodging the hundreds of pedestrians and cars and moving like butter through the streets.  He was wearing a full-length black canvas trench coat with silver studs, had long dyed hair with blonde roots and tall Doc Martin style boots.  He had questionable facial hair – someday soon I assume he wants it to be a goatee, but today – not so much. Oh, and dark eye liner – lots of it.   What was fascinating to me about this guy – not that he was dressed like that at 6:45am on a Wednesday, or that he wasn’t obviously coming home from the club or a bar – but that no one else seemed to even notice him.  I think that’s amazing.  We are so focused on our own shit that these incredibly interesting people can swim right around us in a sea of ordinary, and in New York City we condition ourselves to not even notice. 

Maybe it’s my mid-western roots.  Maybe I grew up sheltered and boring.  And, there’s no maybe about the fact that I couldn’t be whiter.  But, in my 2013 quest to find reasons to like living in this cesspool of anger and frustration and noise, I think that its people like this vampire man that make this place unique.  Rushing to get somewhere – perhaps out of the sun to lie in a windowless room – perhaps he’s heading back into or out of the matrix, or perhaps he’s going to work at Toys R Us – but this guy made me smile and no one else even noticed him seamlessly bobbing and weaving through the ordinary dregs walking to work.