Night Walker
Height: 5'7
Age: early-mid 30s
Met: On the street
Looks a lot like the actor Mark Feurstein
There are some fabulous people in my life, both of the flamboyant and generous variety. My friend, Christine, is one of the latter. Very soon she will head to Ethiopia where she will be teaching math for two years. So as much as I wanted to stay home on this particular Friday night (let’s face it, Friday’s haven’t been exactly friendly to me recently) there was no way I could miss her going away party. Out of my apartment and into the heavy humidity of Manhattan I went.
Though I had only intended on popping in for a quick farewell hug, I found conversation easy with the other guests and passed four hours in banter. About an hour before I left I received an e-mail alerting me to a delay on my train line due to a police investigation. I had forgotten about it until I went downstairs to find hundreds of people waiting on the train platform.
Instead of waiting in the sweltering station (something you don’t do after only one pint) I decided to walk down and catch the inbound train that would likely be empty and air-conditioned at 23rd Street knowing it would turn right back around and head to N.J. Once at the Chelsea station I found the northbound platform closed. I could have given up and waited for the overcrowded outbound train on the overcrowded southbound platform but was really attached to the idea of the empty, air-conditioned car. “I’ll just meet the train at 9th Street.” So I trudged up the steps to street level and nearly bump into a man once there. He smiled and continued walking, in my direction.
It only took about a block and half to realize that we were walking at the same pace, and being the same height, at the same length stride. He must have noticed too because he kept checking over his left shoulder to see if I was still there. At 17th Street I caught my breath as I watched him step out in front of a swerving taxi. The jump back to the curb put us shoulder to shoulder. Without looking at him I said, “Please don’t get hit by a cab while you’re on my watch.” He laughed and apologized for the “near traumatic experience.”
When the line of cars passed we both set off on the right foot, same pace. This time side by side we came to a stop halfway down the block and started laughing. Through laughter he said, “Look, if you are going to follow me can we at least slow it down to a talking speed.” So we did and we walked and talked until we got to 9th Street. I wasn’t keen on the idea of getting on that air-conditioned train anymore and was delighted when he asked if I might join him for a drink, since he’d “gotten used to the company.”
The two of us walked around the corner to a pub I am familiar with (the pub where I met #2 actually) and pulled up next to the bar where he ordered us a couple of Bass pints. To look at him you might think the Night Walker was about as straight laced a guy as you can come by. Nice jeans, sneakers, a dry cleaned button up shirt and traditionally short, conservative haircut led me to believe, correctly so, that he worked in finance. But he’s a funny finance guy. This is hard to come by.
We sat with our beers discussing Christine’s upcoming adventure, my new job, and his fear that he may lose his. A Long Island boy, I was pleased he didn’t have the L.I. accent (no offense to any of my native Long Islanders). A lifelong Yankees fan, that alone could have given us hours more of conversation if I wasn’t beat. Remember, I didn’t even want to leave my apartment 6 hours earlier. I regretfully told him I needed to get going, and he offered to walk me to the train. I happily accepted his offer.
He informed me on our slow, leisurely walk back that he had been heading home when I started following him but he “wasn’t about to let [me] get away without so much as a drink”. That always makes you feel good, and I definitely blushed. Blushing is rare for me but I’m trying to get more into the habit. I thanked him for changing his plans to accommodate me. He told me it was really great to meet me and to get home safely as he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. Because of this I was surprised that he didn’t ask for my number and I’m not forcing it these days. So, a little disappointed, I turned and headed down to the train. I like to imagine that when he got in to his apartment and closed the door that he had one of those “oh sh*t moments” when he realized he hadn’t gotten my number. I would have definitely seen him again. Maybe our paths will cross again sometime.
Thanks for getting me out of the house, Christine!
Bonus Features:
*takes life as it comes
*dimples :)
*mildly perverse sense of humor
AS-Is Defaults:
*I’d be taller than him in heels
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