Only 3 Stops to Dizzy's

Dumbest move on my NY trip? Going without a map. I mean, I love exploring a city by just going where my feet take me, but if you want to go somewhere specific a map is definitely a useful tool.

One of those places I wanted to go to was Dizzy's Diner on 9th Street. I was told I would be able to get some mighty good breakfast there. It was only a couple of subway stops from where I was staying, so normally I would have walked had I had a map, but now I didn't...

And that's how I ended up in the next encounter...

Let me first say that there is a way to do things, and I'm not convinced I handled the situation in the best possible way.On the other hand I did something, where before I would have just felt bad.

I got on the subway and since it was after the morning rush there were some spots to sit. I randomly picked one.

On the opposite side of the aisle were a mother and a daughter. Their clothes clearly showed that they were religious people. They were both deeply concentrated on reading their holy books.

We got to the next stop and a man got on. He too went to sit on the opposite side of the aisle, in an angle from the mother and daughter.

If you know the NY subway system, you know that there isn't a lot of personal space. It wasn't exactly the man's choice to be that close. Clearly the mom still thought the man was sitting too close to them. While looking at him she asked the daughter to move up a spot so she could get away from the man.

At first I was surprised. What had just happened? The man did not look uncared for, nor did he smell bad. I saw no reason for the woman to want to move away from this man.

Until I saw the look on the man’s face; a look of intense hurt. He shook his head. He looked at them and then looked at me. He shook his head again and looked away, out of the window.

Do I need to point out to you that the man was black?

I felt disgusted by what just happened, but normally I would have also felt too self-conscious to do something. I would have quickly looked away and minded my own business hoping someone else would stand up for this man. But the man had looked at me. Not at the person next to me; at me.

I got up, crossed the aisle and sat down next to the man loudly stating that I DID want to sit next to him. To spite the mother and daughter I wasn't going to be quiet about what I had just witnessed.

Yes, I stood up for this man, but I did it in a way that would make the mother and daughter feel bad. And that's where I feel I went about it in the wrong way. It's not with hatred that we change people's vision of the world.

Yet the man looked at me and smiled. He told me he was tired of fighting this battle and that he had given up on standing up for himself. Looking at the mother and daughter he told me that he used to be a man of the Bible himself, but that he was no longer able to read it more than once or twice a week.

I felt his sadness when he told me this. It was like him telling me he could no longer believe, because the real world kept showing him that it wasn't ever going to be like in the Bible.

I had to admit to him that I don't know the Bible or any other holy book from the beginning till the end, but that I was pretty sure that in none of them does it say that one person is meant to treat another person like a lesser human being.

I told him that instead I was pretty sure that life was meant to be the way he and I were living it in that particular moment: Two people freely exchanging a moment in time, a moment that for us didn't last any longer than 3 subway stops.

And that’s how I made it to breakfast.

The Fulton Street subway station

It's been almost two months since I went to NY. It feels like nothing has changed. I'm back to the same old life I had before I left. 

I feel frustrated about that because as much as nothing has changed, at the same time everything has changed. I changed. NY changed me.

The evening in The Broome Street Bar changed the way I look at going places alone, but it wasn't the only marvelous encounter. The second was a man in the subway. 

It's not like he did anything. At least not something unusual to him. Except without knowing he opened my heart and had me do something extremely unusual to me... 

The guy was singing his heart out in the Fulton Street subway station. "If you don't know me by now....."

And while I simply asked to take his picture we ended up singing the song together. "We all come with our own funny moods....."

It went heart to heart. Yes, we did all the desperate hand gestures that come with a song like that. "U will never never never know me... No you won't....."

He opened my heart and had me do something that I love doing: Sing... Sing my heart out... Bursting with JOY... Without fear of making a fool of myself. 

I sing a lot in my every day life. In the street, at work, at home, but other than at home I make sure nobody hears me.

So here I am, almost two months after my visit to NY wanting to not just sing, but wanting to sing my heart out... Over and over again...

The Broome Street Bar

The joke used to be how bars and restaurants were still to be considered "The wild West". You didn't know what you would find upon opening the door. 

Picture those flapping saloon doors and hear the soundtrack of Once upon a Time in the West. Scary, right?

For years I hid myself behind that joke and the person I was going out with. I’d be the frail woman needing protection. I’d make sure not to be the first one going into any establishment and it was rare for me to go anywhere alone.

Did I really think that there were fights going on inside and that someone would point a gun at me? Hardly….. But it felt that way to me. 

Then came New York…..

I was going to visit a good friend. Hang out with her. See the town, and yes, hide behind her. Not that she knew that.

I don't think many people noticed any of this weirdness over the years, except for hearing the joke mentioned above and maybe a raised eyebrow here and there. 

As it turned out my friend was no longer going to be in New York by the time I got there and other than meeting up with some other good friends I had known through the internet for years it was going to be just me.

I actually thought of not going, but I had no reason not to.

I started of gently. On Tuesday morning I bought a fried egg sandwich and a hot chocolate and sat down in Bryant Park. The suffering was quick, but not entirely painless.

After spending the day with two of my lovely friends I was on my own. I started wandering the way I love wandering. No goal, just going where my heart and feet lead me. I ended up in Soho thirsty for a beer.

That’s when I came past the Broome Street Bar. It looked like the place where I wanted to be having that beer, but as much as I wanted to go in, I didn’t want it enough to open the door. I walked on upset with myself for not just going in.

I walked around the block and decided to go back. What could go wrong? I could be received unpleasantly, I could feel unwelcome. In that case I would have my drink and leave. Half hour of suffering tops.

I went in, mentioned I wanted to just have a drink and was seated at the bar. I asked the barman what beer he would recommend. It’s a good trick to get people to like you faster. So I got my Brooklyn Lager.

For a while I just sat there.

Then came a new barman, an Italian businessman, from the Mafia according to himself and a businessman from Washington. We all just chatted for a while, exchanging our reasons for hanging at the Broome Street Bar alone on a Tuesday night. It was fun. We joked around a bit and when I felt comfortable enough I decided to share my problem:

“You know what?” I said to the barman in particular; “I never go to bars or restaurants alone. Not because I mind eating or drinking alone. That is not the problem. The problem is crossing the threshold. I’m afraid of how I will be received and perceived while going into place.”

He smiled at me and said: “It’s not important how we perceive you when you come in, what counts is how we perceive you when you leave.”

BOOM!!!!!!!!

“Don’t they all have the same eyes?”

Talking with a friend the other day this remark came up and we decided it would be a good title for a book. I’m not writing a book today, but I’ll be writing about a man’s eyes.  

In my encounters eyes are often the first contact. After that most often a smile breaks free, on both faces and a conversation starts. Not today.

I’m sitting here just wanting to cry. There’s this sad feeling in the pit of my stomach still, even though the encounter wasn’t really an encounter and it didn’t last more than 5 metro stops. Yet it touched me so deeply that it has changed my day.

An elderly man got on the metro. Morning metros being crowded he was standing close to me. I noticed his hand shaking even though it was holding on to the metal bar. I looked at him and I saw an immense fear in his eyes. 

I got overwhelmed with feelings of compassion and an urge to cry. I wanted to reach out to him. Hold his arm, give him a hug, say something encouraging, but I didn’t…

First of because I have my own set of inhibitions, and secondly what if I would scare him? So I gave him a smile and his face lit up for a second before moving away to another spot.

He got off at the same station as me. I made sure to walk out directly behind him so he’d have to hold the door for me. I thanked him with a big smile and that’s when he smiled back.

Maybe there’s a next time.

But for now I was left with this sad feeling. I would love to grow in my confidence that reaching out to people is ALWAYS a good thing.

The smile of an encounter

Some encounters don't last more than a couple of seconds; the encounter itself that is. The effects may linger on for a long time after.

It’s like a domino effect, but instead of there being falling there’s lifting up…

The other day I went out early. I “needed” new shoes for a wedding where I was the witness for a young man that is very special to me and my little family.

I also wanted to go to the gym still. I needed to evacuate stress. Not sure how a single mom ever gets stressed.

After I would have to pack still, pick up the girls from school and make it to the train station in time. 

I was rushing in the street carrying two bags, my jacket and phone in hand, as I saw a woman struggling to get up a steep sidewalk in her wheelchair.

I rushed towards her to push her up looking totally silly with all that I was carrying. She didn't care one bit about how I looked though, she cared however that someone looked out for her. She smiled big and thanked me and we both went our way.

Her day changed, and so did mine in just a couple of seconds. I smiled as I carried on with my day.

I was still smiling when I got to the tram stop where I bumped into a tall skinny man with burn scars on his chest. He looked a bit scary, and he also looked intently at me. So I took off my headphones to hear what he was whispering.

"You have a beautiful smile", he said. "Keep it", he said, "The world needs smiles". We talked for the duration of the shared tram trip and we both smiled as he got off the tram and wished each other a beautiful day.

I don’t know where the smiles from both the man and the woman went after the encounter, but mine stuck around all day. I was more relaxed in everything I did that day. I was more open to other encounters, other strangers, other smiles.

I used to not be able to help strangers. I was afraid of failing, of being judged. I was riddled with shame about me as a person. I was not allowed to stand out and didn't allow myself to stand out either. At any rate if I didn't help I would feel shame and judgment too, but it was just mine and at least I hadn't taken the risk of failing. So why would I help?

Thanks to the love and encouragement of the people that surround me and the strangers I've met so far something has shifted in me though and I think it must be my silly bone. The one that makes me sing aloud in the street, do a little dance on the metro and generally cares less about how people see me, as long as I make me smile and maybe them.  

It feels so much better to feel free to act according to the heart. To grace people with kindness instead of ignoring their and my need for love. I love the little encounters that make life feel like we’re in a shared effort for happiness… My life definitely feels richer because of them!

Tonight I met an angel!

I was standing at Saint Lazare on the quai of metro line 3 when I heard a noise. I looked up and vaguely saw someone struggling down the stairs with a trolley with boxes on it and losing control. I felt rushed to get home, end of a long year and finally on vacation, so why would I care about some stranger that was making his or her day complicated by travelling with more stuff than they could possibly handle???

But my look went back to the person and this time I took the time to actually see the person…

I saw a frail little lady. White hair, white clothes, wrinkled face, sparkling eyes. She just stood there looking at her trolley and the boxes threatening to fall off.

I realized that if I were her I would be glad if at least one person in the crowd would stop looking at me struggling and reach out to help, so I got over myself and went up the stairs to help. She warned me kindly that we had to do it together because the load was heavy. It made me smile because she looked like she wasn’t going to be able to lift more than her handbag, but OY!

We carried the trolley down the stairs. She told me how kind I was to help her and thanked me profusely. I asked her if she wanted me to help her get the trolley on the metro, but she said “Ca va aller” (I can handle). Who was I to contradict her?

We stood a door away from each other when the metro came. Tons of people spilling out and then the door signal rang signaling the closing of the doors. I looked at her hesitating to get on. I quickly walked over and lifted the trolley on the metro. The doors closed right behind me. We made it!

Of course she thanked me again. At first I decided I was going to sit away from her, because I didn’t want to get in the way of this clearly determined lady, and to be honest, I’m not a small talker. But something drew me near to her and we sat side by side…

The conversation that followed was heartwarming. She told me that she was 79 and moving from a house in the suburbs to a chambre de bonne across from her daughter’s place in the 11th district. She said I feel like a student again and her face beamed with JOY.

She asked me if I ever moved and how I did that. It was funny to me that this spirited older lady asked my advice. She had to get rid of a lot of her belongings because of moving to a smaller place, but that didn’t really seem to bother her. Instead she was all excited about living in Paris with this whole public transport system at her feet.

The conversation came to my life and when she found out that I’m a single mom she said “You know what? I was a single mom too and my daughter is fabulous, don’t you worry, your girls will be fabulous too. Just make sure that you surround yourself with some good girlfriends to laugh at the frustrations with and all will be fine”.

At that point we arrived at Parmentier. She got up, thanked me one last time, gave me a hug and kissed my forehead…

I asked her if she wanted help and with a smile she said “Ca va aller”. I jumped up, dropped my bag, picked up the trolley one last time, put it on the quai for her and then the doors closed……

This frail little lady full of energy and JOY, she made me think of who I want to be at 79 and she made me believe that I can… Because tonight I met an angel, and she told me that I’m an angel too!!!