That's right, New York City. I took a holiday in
the Big Apple last weekend with my college
newspaper staff to attend a journalism
conference. I attended conferences by day and
visited Times Square at night. The days were
sunny and the nights were hot, so I'd leave the
window of my hotel room open when I went to
bed and the noises of the night were easily
audible to my sensative country ears.

I tend to be very sensative, not just
emotionally, but also in regards to sensory
intake; I'm easily overwhelmed. So, you can
imagine that hours of walking through people,
and more hours of staring, wide-eyed at the
brilliance of Times Square, made for deep,
heavy sleep when I'd finally get 'round to
crashing into bed.

As much as I enjoyed my experiences in the
city, by day three I found myself becoming
depressed. Not only was my body fatigued
from the intensity of city survival, but no one
looked at anyone else on the street unless
they wanted something -- usually money.
Everyone else looked expressionless, and
with dead, disinterested eyes. At that point I
really wanted to go home, where I nod to
passersby as I walk up to school or out to the
store, and I can see them thinking, actively
taking information in and processing it.

Then, one evening, my "trip buddy" Matt and I
were on the subway heading back to the hotel
to meet up with the rest of the group. After six
months of being really good friends, we found
ourselves growing very close during the trip,
and beginning a romantic relationship of
gentle comfort and innocent pleasure. As the
subway car became packed, Matt and I
crammed ourselves into one little seat, our
arms wrapped tightly around each other as we
were bumped about and smooshed by the
New York masses. As the people dispersed,
however, I continued to sit curled up on his
legs, dozing against his shoulder.

This is when it happened, in between waves
of sleep, as my eyes wandered over the faces
of the people across the aisle from me. This
one woman met my eyes, and smiled the
smile of one who has seen something that
made her happy. I felt that she was
remembering something good, looking at us,
and I smiled back, but I really wanted to sob in
gratitude for this momentary view of her rich,
inner world. I had become so lonely there, in
the city . . .

How DO people live in the city? I don't know. I
came home on Saturday night and was still
wiped out on Tuesday, sleeping every free
moment of the day and spending my waking
life in lethargy. Matt says one adjusts to the city
if one lives there long enough. But, would I?
Would I?