Bussom Buddies

Yesterday, I was followed by a hoard of homeless people,veterans, crazy dog-women, and yes, construction workers. I have no idea how it happened, but all of a sudden, I was the sweatpant-clad Pied Piper leading the lonely and disoriented around the city.

And I have no one to blame by myself. I cant help it that I'm friendly -- I come from the land of nice, Minneapolis. The place where, if you're not on the road, driving with the type of vicious passion that could kill a small cartoon character, you're bending over backwards to make sure that everyone else is happy. You open doors for others, offer up the last croissant and let people budge in line. Any action to the contrary is considered unnatural. That's just the way of life in the Mini-apple.

And that way of life works out wonderfully, until you take one of those doe-eyed, sweet as pie, petite, Minnesota girls and drop them into the sweltering, urine-based streets of New York. Here, you can walk by the same person four times a day, and not even crack a smile.

But I don't fit the mold -- Life, to me, is still a 1950's television sitcom complete with cordial neighbors, coiffed hair-dos and TV dinners. I cant help but beam and wave at any and all individuals I see along my dog walking path each day. This includes the elderly, doormen and vagabonds. (I usually avoid making eye contact with construction workers as I don't want to encourage them.)

But, on Thursday, March 22nd, every single person I had ever acknowledged, took it the wrong way, and I spent my afternoon travelling through a tag team of uninvited guest speakers who decided to "walk with me" as I worked.

It was bizarre -- as if each person was stationed around the city and knew right when their transient predecessor was finished. I probably had only 5-10 minutes between guests, and each took my previously friendly gesture as a genuine interest in their stories of leg surgery, dog problems or the onset of Hepatitis C.

Under different circumstances, I may have been very interested in hearing (almost all) of their (very brief) stories, but it's not the right time when I'm working.

What do you say to complete strangers who are jabbering your ear off about their time at war, their botched botox procedures or how they contracted a venereal disease? Since all I'm doing is "walking", its hard to pretend that I'm incapable of a conversation. So, I had to dig deep, go against everything Ive learned my whole life, and lay a hardcore smack down.

It was awkward at first, but once I felt that my new bussom buddies were impeding on my dog-time or personal space, I had to tell them that it wasn't ok. So, one by one, I politely let each of the walk crashers know, that they were seriously creeping me out.

After the last guest retreated (and the slow clap had subsided), I found myself, once again, beaming...but this time with pride. I haven't denounced my "Minnesota nice", I'm just adding a bit of New York savvy to my repertoire.