I got on the train this morning and because I am already done with all my monthly November magazines, and my weekly New York Magazine has not arrived (get it together NY mag, subscribers expect their weekly mag before you see it on newsstands), I did something that can only be done shamelessly in a large city – I stared at people.

I observed a woman putting on her makeup on the crowded subway, which seems to require a steady hand and a sprinkle of luck – a train lurch could make eyeliner application into an eye injury. I saw a large man try to squeeze himself into a seat much to the adjacent women’s dismay and I watched a kid eat Doritos mostly likely for breakfast. Then I saw someone who I recognized…huge red beard, glasses and a newsboy cap. I quickly looked away, closed my eyes and began to search my brain to figure out who this person was and how I knew them. Then I placed him. We used to live in the same building two years ago. For over two years, I would regularly see him living his everyday life and we always said hello and exchanged small talk. The strange thing is, I know that he lives with his girlfriend, drives an old maroon Volvo and has a Shiba Inu dog that is blind, but at that moment, on the train I didn’t feel like I had to say hi. I adverted my eyes from his general area and didn’t feel bad about not saying hello. This is one of the things I love and hate about large city living. There is a redeeming quality about large city living in that you can be a complete prick and no one will ever really remember you, but I do miss that smaller town quality where everyone says hello and remembers your face.