Talking to Strangers

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So, news flash: Living in a larger city means you interact with a lot of people you don't know.

Not that I was in a complete bubble in Minnesota. I spoke to strangers. But there tended to be a spectrum of rituals when you approached a stranger. In rural Minnesota, you would make eye contact as you were passing them on the street, smile and nod, and if you needed to ask them a question, you'd do a small wave before you started talking. In the Twin Cities, you would make brief eye contact, look away (as if deciding whether they are the person to ask), and then do the small wave or an "Excuse me."

In Boston, there is no rhyme or reason.

This partially seems to be because homelessness is a serious issue--no surprise, given the cost of living here--so there are a lot of people asking for money on the streets. In one of my classes early on in the semester, we did an exercise where we had to put ourselves on a spectrum somewhere between "cool as a cucumber" and "anxiety attack" for different situations. When the professor asked, "How do you feel when a homeless person approaches you?" I put myself close to "anxiety attack." You don't see a lot of homeless folks in person in the Twin Cities--most of them stand with signs at busy intersections so you encounter them while you're driving. But around my school in the heart of Boston, they are on every corner.

At first, I admit that I was scared of them. I feel terrible saying this, because I know that they are just as human as I am. One of my classmates suggested carrying around some extra food to give out instead of money, which I've started doing so I can feel like I'm doing something positive. But then, one night, I was walking to the T with a classmate around midnight, and a shaking, crying man approached me. Now, my first thought was that he was in withdrawal. For all I know, he was, but he approached me so earnestly that I stopped and I listened. He said that he was a combat veteran, just released from a psychiatric hospital that day--"Seven hours ago." He showed me the papers he received from the doctor that indicated what prescriptions he needed filled, but he didn't have the money. So he'd spent the last seven hours begging from strangers, but he still needed about twelve dollars. And the drug stores were all closed anyway. He said he'd stay in the homeless shelter tonight, but he was wondering if I could help at all.

I gave him everything I had (which was probably about six dollars). If it had been earlier in the day, I would have gone into the drug store and bought his prescription with him to make sure that's where the money went, but there was no way I could know at that hour.

Since then, I've been much more open (and far less scared) of speaking with strangers in Boston. Contact is often initiated abruptly, but I find myself more and more open to what these strangers have to offer. Don't get me wrong, I don't do anything that could get me in an unsafe situation. If I have any fault, it's probably that I'm gullible. But most of the times, when I talk to strangers, I find that they are just seeking a harmless connection.

Enter Naim. One night, as I was walking from the T to my apartment, a young man approached me and asked if I had some spare money for the bus. I said, "No, sorry," and kept walking. Funny thing was, he starting walking next to me. I admit I was more than a little freaked out by this, but he was a decent distance away from me as we walked side by side, and he didn't make any sign of aggression. I immediately noted all of my escape routes and where other people were on the street, but I didn't feel like there was reason to make a scene yet. Naim, completely unaware of my panic, started talking about the comedy night he just came back from. Then, perhaps sensing that I was not comfortable, he introduced himself with a handshake and immediately dove back into his play-by-play of the comedy night. He started telling me jokes, and it soon became clear that his sense of humor was rather juvenile (making fun of men for wearing thongs, etc.), so I immediately went into teacher-mode and told him that I felt people should wear whatever they want. He then told me he was wearing a thong--to which I responded, "I don't need to know that." He was immediately apologetic, saying "It was a joke." By the time we got to the street I was going to turn down (not my street, just in case he was a creeper), I said goodnight and he put his arms out like he wanted to hug me. I said, "No, Naim, I think just a handshake will do." We shook hands and parted, and I haven't seen him since. I get the feeling that Naim just needed a friend at that moment, and his methods were harmless, if...unusual.

Just this week, I was on my way home from work when my T line completely stopped. Someone had jumped on the track, and so they had to turn off the electricity for the whole line. There was a massive hubbub of people moving on and off the train parked in the station, because nobody knew how long it would be. Eventually, I heard murmurings that there was a bus that would take people to my destination. As I threaded through the crowd to listen to an MBTA official give more information, I was suddenly face to face with an older round-faced woman who said, "Honey, can you find out what's going on, and let us know?" I nodded. Another older woman next to her caught my arm and said, "Thanks, honey." And a third said, "We're going to Sullivan Station." I plunged into the crowd, found the information we needed, and went back to them. I told the three sisters what they needed to know, but they looked at me blankly. "You lead the way, honey. We'll follow you." And another, "Walk slow so we can keep up!" So began my "Make Way for Ducklings" trek through downtown Boston. We eventually found the bus stop, after many cries of "Is that the bus, honey?" and, "Where's ____? Oh, she didn't make it through the light. Wait up, honey!" and, "This is a long walk, honey." Once we made it safe to Sullivan, one of them said, "Why didn't you sit next to me on the bus, honey?" and another said, "Thanks, honey!" and the third was still working on getting off the bus, I think.

As children, we're taught to never trust strangers, and I can see the value in that. I think it's important, however, to grow to recognize that this does not have to be an absolute. This past week, one of my classes performed something called invisible theatre. Basically, the actors go out into the world and create a situation that raises a moral dilemma. It is "invisible" because the spect-actors (spectators who take action in the scene) don't know it is a play, and act accordingly. It was invented by theatre practitioner Augusto Boal during a time when openly putting on one of his socially-minded plays would have gotten him and his actors killed. I won't go into too much detail about our scene here, but suffice it to say that not only did our scene cause people to stop and witness what was happening, but one brave man actually stepped in and put a stop to it.

I have never felt so much faith in humanity.



Warmly,

Lynn



P.S. Oh, and happy Halloween!

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