talking to strangers

Many of you have reached out to me lately in the spirit of concern.  (Thank you.) I've been scattered and distracted. I look pale and a little leeched.  My posts have been flavored with melancholy.

Sometimes snapping out of it isn't just such a snap.

But recently, I stopped at one of my favorite bars/restaurants where I'm in danger of becoming a regular. (Listen, you can order a Penicillin there, so I consider it medicinal.)  There is something very sweet about knowing the bartender's name in this giant city, of feeling like we have created small villages within the vast Metropolis. Since I'm fearless about asking the person next to me what he or she is eating (what better way to know what to order?), I struck up a conversation with the open and charismatic Anthony Hull. Anthony, who is a 28-year old producer and actor, shared his food with me. And his inspiration. And his energy. He said he knew I was a traveller because of my willingness to talk to strangers, that only people who have travelled in many strange countries are open to engaging with people they don't know. Often only people who are far from home are willing to transcend the invisible boundaries between human being sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at a bar. I ate one of his eggs Benedict and he shared my roast duck wrapped in a chive pancake.  Later, Rudy the bartender gave me a bite of his fried duck with waffles and mascarpone.

I walked away feeling better about life in the Big Apple and feeling more confident that we should all be sojourners in our own country. Why not toss our arms open to destiny? Why not talk to strangers?

May it be so.