Completely taken aback, my heart pounding from the realization that I had so suddenly and quickly been mildly accosted and assaulted, I literally froze. I saw the man cross the street and disappear. My instinct was to dial 911. After an aggravatingly long talk with the operator -- "You're where exactly? It happened where? You want to meet the police, where?" -- I stood in the exact spot where the man had so quickly appeared and then evaporated, waiting for police officers to show up. Then I saw a man with a "Union Square" work-related jacket, and I asked him if he had seen what had just happened. I wasn't hurt from the incident at all, but I was -- and am -- more shaken up from it than I had expected to be. He seemed mildly concerned for me but said he hadn't seen anything. There obviously were witnesses -- streams of people were walking all around me -- when the incident happened, but in characteristic New York fashion, not a single person stopped to offer their sympathy, ask if I was okay or offer to be a witness.
The only descriptors I have for the man are vague: he was black, about my height, of unidentifiable age, and wearing a leather jacket. How infuriatingly, maddeningly stereotypical. I realized that I should have opened up my phone and snapped a picture of him with it, if I would've even had time for that. At this point, my plan to stay relatively immune to the cold before I reached my destination had proven unsuccessful, and police were still nowhere to be seen, so I simply continued my walk, trying -- unsuccessfully -- to recompose myself.
Finally, once at my ayurvedic spa, I managed to fully calm down and sink into facial-inspired bliss maybe 10 or 20 minutes into the treatment. Poor, disempowered, possibly mentally ill and/or drug-addled man, and heck if I was going to let someone as desperate and angry as him make me not feel safe or become angry and vengeful because of one ignorant, angry act. And so I made myself forget about him for awhile and relax into my little afternoon pampering session.
Ironically enough, when I returned home, I found in my mailbox the newest issue of New York Magazine: "Reasons to Love New York". The last reason given, Reason #59, "Our Most Notable Recent Exile Can't Stop Thinking About Us," quotes author Jonathan Lethem. Here is an excerpt of what Lethem had to say: "I love and hate, disgorge and devour, exalt and revile my old-and-always home just as fiercely and the same way each time I've fled, only to find it stalking me around my mental corner."Sigh. New York.
