I don’t feel that there was ever a time in my life when I felt I didn’t enjoy meeting new people, but I can recall a long period in my life when I found a certain sense of comfortability in simply keeping to myself.
That complacency, or safety in solitude, is easy. You’re secure and stable.
I’m not a huge fan of the Doors, but I could relate to the line, “People are strange, when you’re a stranger.”
I’ve always been more comfortable in my own head than in the company of new people.
Introversion isn’t unhealthy and it isn’t odd or uncommon, but I felt more like an overly cautious extrovert; and I was beginning to grow tired of the nonsocial habit that was forming.
So two years ago, when I was offered a position as an assistant director for a comedy web series called The Louise Log, I jumped at the chance to step out of my element.
I bought a round-trip ticket with the idea that 10 days working and living in Manhattan was just the kick I needed.
When I arrived at JFK Airport, I was met with a kicked wasp nest-full of hurried, self-involved travelers. I then realized that my goal of becoming a more adventurous people-person would have to be postponed a bit.
I spent most of the time on the subway trying to ignore a sweaty, shirtless 300-pound man who roamed the car, stopping occasionally only to get in people’s faces and mumble about something he’d lost, presumably his marbles.
I finally made it to where I was staying and would be working in Greenwich Village and after a blitzkrieg of introductions I settled in.
Over the next week, I got to know the cast and crew of the web series pretty well. But for the most part, I was still maintaining my wallflower ways.
I spent most of my 10-hour workdays running errands across the city, teaching myself how to set up the lighting and haphazardly building set elements. And when the workdays were done, I spent my last few ounces of energy writing essays and studying material for my online courses. Needless to say, I didn’t have a lot of time to go sightseeing.
One late evening, I decided to step out to call my buddy and tell him how the trip was going. It had just stopped raining and the street was deserted. Well, except for the group of eight men who were creeping down the sidewalk in my direction.
I made the decision that I should avoid this encounter and turned up the steps and back to my door. With the key just inches from the lock, a shadow blocking the light from behind grew on the wooden door in front of me.
I could only mumble ‘great’ under my breath before a hand reached around to clench my mouth closed. My head was yanked back and my cell phone was ripped away. Most of the men ran down the street, while two stood point and stayed to get my wallet.
After a screaming match and a fairly creative exchange of curse words, the last of the muggers decided my wallet wasn’t worth it.
The next day, as I was sitting in the Sixth Precinct Police Station going through the unending cache of 18 to 25-year-old male mug shots, I thought to myself, “I don’t think I like New York. I don’t think I like New Yorkers. To hell with these people.”
And then I froze. To hell with these people? I don’t know any of these people. I’m sitting in a borough of over one million people and I’ve met 40 of them.
I realized how stupid and dangerous that outlook is. Making a decision to specifically not meet new people is dangerous. That’s the kind of attitude that can lead to reclusion and Howard Hughes urine jars, or ignorance and KKK registration forms. Either way, that’s not me.
I made a conscious decision that day to aggressively seek out new people, I spent the next two days in New York racing around doing just that.
I started conversations with anybody from cabbies to museum security guards and just random people on the street.
I ended up having the best time of my life; and not just by going to the Guggenheim or Strawberry Fields in Central Park, but by talking to everybody that I met at those places.
I came back to the web series’ production and I found out that one of the actresses was a fellow Beatlemaniac, another was from Belgium and that a few years back, the sound guy and I were actually at the same Bob Dylan show all the way back in Ohio.
I got invited to go hang out in Brooklyn for the night, I got people’s phone numbers and Facebook info and I still talk to these people.
I came home and promptly switched my major to Journalism with the intent of forcing myself to keep the pact and continue meeting new people — and so far, so good. I haven’t lost any more cell phones anyway.
Jim Morrison was close; people are strange, only when you’re a stranger.