No one is ever more invisible than when on the streets of Manhattan.

It’s the perfect place to truly disappear. There is never a dull moment. The streets are always filled around every corner you turn, like a school of fish, refusing to let anyone be in solitary. No matter the season, the weather, the world’s current life or death situation, Manhattan will always be packed.

When the sun is at its peak, making the streets so hot, touching any sort of object feels like putting your hand over an oven and your skin starts to melt like plastic, the streets will still be filled.

Not even when the city has issued a hurricane warning and confirmed that this island will be in its path.

The only thing that ever made Manhattan empty was when COVID hit. And even then it was only for a moment. A quick moment.

The unspoken rule of not giving anything that does not directly affect you any attention is drilled into the mind of every New Yorker. Something taught, a message passed down from generations? A tip given before a trip? Or a lesson learned as a result of doing the opposite? Either way, it is known by everyone on these streets.

What then prompts a person to break the 5-second rule and gaze at something for a significantly larger amount of time?

What convinces someone to stop and truly see a stranger? Look them in the eye for more than a few seconds and allow ourselves to see the world through their cracked lenses. What motivates a person to write “In Need of (expletive). Please respond” on a large piece of cardboard and walk around with it and a huge smile on your face?

At first glance, the man seems homeless. Has anyone ever thought about that?

I’ve seen an article that talked about the effect that the deprivation of human interaction had on homeless people, but is sexual gratification that much of a need or a want? What life choices does one have to make to end up homeless and on the streets of Manhattan not ask for money, or food, or shelter, but sex?

Or maybe, he isn’t homeless. Maybe his ability to pull a girl is equivalent to that of a blobfish and he’s decided that this is his last resort and most viable option.

Or maybe he’s just a complete weirdo. Whatever the reason, his actions were enough for people to create an invisible bubble around him. It’s not even in the top 100 bizarre things to have seen while walking the streets of New York. 

Sometimes I think New York was a science experiment created by Harvard.

How many conversations do passengers have in a moving train car before it reaches its next stop without ever making a sound?

When the rear-end doors of the train open, me and the lady’s eyes in front of me make contact. Both say a silent plea “Please don’t bother me.”

Will it be me or her that the stranger decides to intrude upon our personal space in hopes of getting at least a dollar? 

I stopped carrying physical money since the pandemic happened.

It is then that we both notice, that this stranger is not like the others. Not distinctive because of his attitude. Rather for the fact that he holds a small creature in his arms. A cat. On a leash.

Still not in the top 100 most bizarre things seen in New York.

He tells his story loud, to those who will listen. He was displaced, with no friends or family to rely on. Just his cat. He’s hungry. The cat’s hungry. Anything will do. 

But yet. I still don’t have any change. And apparently neither did anyone in the car.

God forbid I was ever in the situation. Would I keep my cat, or would I sell it? Would our family or friends offer us a place to sleep? How well do you truly know the people around you? 

I’d like to think that I have people to rely on but I guess you never really know until you’re in that situation.

God forbid I was ever in the situation. Would I keep my cat, or would I sell it? Would our family or friends offer us a place to sleep? How well do you truly know the people around you? 

I’d like to think that I have people to rely on but I guess you never really know until you’re in that situation.

At what hour of the night do you finally decide to give in to the inescapable alluring song of the siren telling you it’s finally time to go to sleep?

Whenever the hour is, when the time finally comes, I stand near the window and contemplate how much it will affect me if I completely disregard all my responsibilities for the next day. 

When I was just about to weigh the consequences of doing such actions, a couple (I assume) came into view. Or rather staggers into view. A male, looking very distraught and stressed, leans against the gate, while the female stands quite a bit of distance away making large hand gestures. 

I move slowly to open my window because when in the comfort of my own house the “mind your business” rule doesn’t apply. 

“It wasn’t like that…You’re really overreacting…Why aren’t you listening to me?”

Immediately my mind thinks of a million scenarios. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. Surely he walked in on an exchange at the worst possible time and left before giving their partner a chance to fully explain. Maybe they were playing a video game and she cheated and he, so overwhelmed with the thought that the winning title was so close in his grasp but just taken away so quickly, stormed out in a fit of rage.

They’re arguing now. “You’re not serious…Oh yeah? What else could it have been?”

People are very passionate about video games.

I go to sleep that night with a content sigh. There is never a boring day when one is living in New York.