Stranger Interaction: Times Square
My wife and I are walking through the station beneath Times Square. It’s a cold Saturday evening and she’s just finished a full day of work. We’re not far from the turnstile through which we entered when a voice begins trailing us.
“Miss . . . ”
“Miss . . . ”
“Miss . . . ”
The third time fully enters into our consciousness as we look back to see a slender black man in casual winter clothing holding out the pocketbook my wife has inadvertently let fall to the ground.
“Thank you so much,” I say as my wife receives the item she now realizes slid past the compartment of her purse. He simply nods and proceeds in another direction.
As we continue on our way, the significance of this gesture—the generosity, the time we’ve been saved, the nature of our urban interdependence—begins to settle in and I turn back to find the man and reiterate our appreciation. He’s already disappeared into a stream of humanity.