Awkward Encounters of the Close Kind

I like vegetables. Recently, I have become increasingly more intrigued by the thought of a vegetarian diet. I love food and have been trying to locate the “Dosa Man” of Washington Square Park who supposedly serves up some delicious vegetarian Middle Eastern food. My going-out-of-the-way-to-find-this-guy got me to think about how much less I’ve spent time in the park as compared to last year. I live at Water Street now as opposed to Rubin Hall last year. Last week, since class was cancelled, I sat on a bench and read. This particular day was a beautiful one; warm, sunny and summery. During this past winter, and because of the ugly scene the renovations have made, I very rarely walked through the park. During the winter there is no music and not much going on. The sounds of the park are usually what lure me in. I can’t help but smile when I hear jazz or ragtime quartets. I sat far away from the music to read but I never really escaped it. I read for a while and periodically looked up to people-watch. The tourists sitting on the bench next to me tried to figure out what subway to take uptown. The mother was telling her kids that she saw an upright bass at the other end of the park, where the music was coming from. Out of my periphery I saw a girl sit down diagonally from me. She looked familiar. I looked again and then made a startling and disappointing realization. This girl is the only person I’ve ever met that hasn’t remembered meeting me, after having been introduced on three separate occasions in one month’s time. The last two times I even acknowledged that we had met before. Shit, we made eye contact. Is it slightly possible that she remembers me? Absolutely not. I saved myself the embarrassment. I laughed to myself at how absurd the situation was. I kept reading and walked away.