Well….it’s who a great many of us are, a good deal of the time. Last night on the subway, I saw something happen that is pretty ordinary, but I’ll bet it doesn’t fit with most people’s ideas about New Yorkers. I didn’t know any of the people involved, but for the purposes of telling the story, I’m going to randomly assign names to the primary people involved. It’ll make the story much easier to follow than if they’re called “the guy” or “the other guy.” So here goes:

The train is packed, like it has been lately. People are jammed against the doors, those in the center of the aisle are reaching their hands up to touch the ceiling in order to stabilize themselves a little bit since they can’t reach a pole (though, it’s probably true that they couldn’t fall if they wanted to, given the crowd). People are mostly patient, even if someone else’s bag was poking their back, or touching their face. Mostly patient. When the train is crowded like this, it can be hard to get out at your stop if you’re not standing right by the door. So anyway, we come to one of the major stops, the doors open, and Bob, a somewhat older guy, gets up from his seat and pushes through the crowd to exit the train. Jim, who was sitting next to Bob, sees a folded piece of paper that Bob apparently dropped. Jim picks it up and starts waving it and shouting at Bob, trying to get his attention and return the paper. But Bob is already out of the train and in the crowd on the platform. The crowd in the train just relays the dropped paper, person to person, out of the car and into the crowd on the platform, where it finally makes its way to Jim, who looks surprised. I saw him smile as the doors closed and we pulled out of the station.

It’s really not unusual. When I was first visiting New York before I moved here, I was often lost or confused and I always received kind help from complete strangers. Once, a woman overheard me talking about my destination and told me that I was on the wrong train, how to get to the right one, and when we got to the appropriate stop, she got off the train and escorted me through a huge station to the right train. That one still floors me – I’m always happy to give people directions, or steer them in the right way if they’re confused, but even I wouldn’t do that, mostly because I don’t have that kind of time to spare. When a tourist asks someone for directions in the subway, other people standing around are likely to chime in and suggest different/better routes, if appropriate.  What I typically see is an open willingness to give directions, but not gushy overt friendliness – after giving directions, New Yorkers immediately turn back to what they were doing, reading the paper, talking, thinking, playing a game on their iPhones, whatever. So it may not be the kind of friendliness you’ll see in the southern states, but it is just the kind you need in New York.