Day 5 10 Aug Friday 4.37pm
Just came back to the hostel. Went back to Time Square to buy tickets for Mama Mia!, and viola the lady was there again, outside Starbucks. Was raining so she was in the shelter. I talked to her, and she told me about how Starbucks had thrown away her stuff and she wanted them to stop bothering her, and how she wanted them to apologise and return her cash for her stuff. And we talked. She gave me salad, an extra one to take back for Eisen, and I bought her coffee to help her thaw from the cold. She told me about her life, the fact that she in fact had a PHD in clinical psychology, and had 5 Master’s Degrees, and that she was from a very rich family. She was Jewish too, and her dad was a holocaust survivor. She used to be “Reformed” Jewish i.e. only going to the synagogue on holy days like the Passover, and going out partying on other days. Now in her old age she became more “Orthodox”, being more religious and stuff. Interestingly despite her religion she believes that anyone from any religion can go to heaven, as long as he does good. It doesn’t really matter that he does not believe in God/Yahweh/Jehovah/Asham (she calls God by this name, don’t really know what it means.), as long as you’re a good person. And her husband, another Jewish man, had already passed away.
And all was fine. She kept on telling me to call 1900-STARBUCKS to get the Starbucks people to give in to her demands. She’s a very principled person, this lady. Very principled, and she believed she was in the right. Then her feet were wet and cold so she went off to buy boots for her feet, and I helped her look after her stuff. She said she’d be back by 3pm.
And it was cold, about 59 F (don't know how much it was, but I didn't carry my windbreaker out with me in the noon, and it was so so bad). So I was this university undergrad, outside Starbucks, with many cardboard boxes all around me. I would have looked like a homeless person, other than the fact that I looked too clean, and that very few Chinese were homeless. But I definitely felt like a homeless person, with the chilly wind blowing right into my face and idiotic me having forgotten to bring my windbreaker along.
Anyway, by 3.30 pm the lady was not back, and the Starbucks manager had informed me at 3.20 that she’d called the cops to settle the issue. I was alone, with the lady’s stuff, I didn’t know where the hell she was, and the NYPD was coming. Bloody balls shrink.
In desperation I prayed. And I guess God does answer. I prayed for her to return and soon she was back, before the NYPD got there. She couldn’t find boots, and was also looking for batteries for my camera to surprise me. Couldn’t find batteries also. (I brought a cam but forgot to insert batteries inside, so no photos of anything at all). She’s a sweet old lady. That was why I hadn't run away when the store manager told me that she'd called the cops. I'd trusted this lady, and I guess my trust paid off.
And I hung around, and the NYPD came. And they interrogated her and she started getting irate and told them her story. And they interrogated me and I told them what I knew, and they asked to see my ID, so I showed them my funky Singapore passport with my funky F1 visa. They said I’m cool, and not a trouble-maker, and told me not to bother with this lady.
I talked to her a bit, in front of the officers, and one officer asked me to leave. Her voice was edgy, like “Sir, I’m going to ask you to be on your way. Have a nice day”. You know, as SINGAPOREANS, you have it ingrained inside you to bloody listen to the police. So I did. The whole time the lady was screaming, telling me that I didn’t need to show my ID and bother with the police, but I guess I did the right thing. The very Singaporean thing, but the right thing to cooperate with the police. The un-Singaporean thing, of course, was to even hang around long enough for the police to chase me away. Freak I see mata already balls shrink lar, even though I hadn’t do anything wrong and outside act damn cool. I’m glad I didn’t run at the first sign of trouble. We both didn’t do anything wrong anyway, what’s there to be scared of.
So I went on my way. Police ask me to get lost, I dare to stay there meh? Shit now I regret not getting her number before I’d left. She’d have made a good friend. Hope she’s alright. I’ll drop by later to see if she’s still there. In fact, I guess I should go there now. And I'll remember my windbreaker this time.
- 4.50pm.
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Anyway, by 3.30 pm the lady was not back, and the Starbucks manager had informed me at 3.20 that she’d called the cops to settle the issue. I was alone, with the lady’s stuff, I didn’t know where the hell she was, and the NYPD was coming. Bloody balls shrink.
In desperation I prayed. And I guess God does answer. I prayed for her to return and soon she was back, before the NYPD got there. She couldn’t find boots, and was also looking for batteries for my camera to surprise me. Couldn’t find batteries also. (I brought a cam but forgot to insert batteries inside, so no photos of anything at all). She’s a sweet old lady. That was why I hadn't run away when the store manager told me that she'd called the cops. I'd trusted this lady, and I guess my trust paid off.
And I hung around, and the NYPD came. And they interrogated her and she started getting irate and told them her story. And they interrogated me and I told them what I knew, and they asked to see my ID, so I showed them my funky Singapore passport with my funky F1 visa. They said I’m cool, and not a trouble-maker, and told me not to bother with this lady.
I talked to her a bit, in front of the officers, and one officer asked me to leave. Her voice was edgy, like “Sir, I’m going to ask you to be on your way. Have a nice day”. You know, as SINGAPOREANS, you have it ingrained inside you to bloody listen to the police. So I did. The whole time the lady was screaming, telling me that I didn’t need to show my ID and bother with the police, but I guess I did the right thing. The very Singaporean thing, but the right thing to cooperate with the police. The un-Singaporean thing, of course, was to even hang around long enough for the police to chase me away. Freak I see mata already balls shrink lar, even though I hadn’t do anything wrong and outside act damn cool. I’m glad I didn’t run at the first sign of trouble. We both didn’t do anything wrong anyway, what’s there to be scared of.
So I went on my way. Police ask me to get lost, I dare to stay there meh? Shit now I regret not getting her number before I’d left. She’d have made a good friend. Hope she’s alright. I’ll drop by later to see if she’s still there. In fact, I guess I should go there now. And I'll remember my windbreaker this time.
- 4.50pm.
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I met Rose Mary at the entrance to Starbucks when I went back there. I’d called 1800-STARBUCKS before I’d left, and the lady told me that Rose Mary’s case was already on record, and under company investigation. When I told her that later, she was really quite happy, that at least the company knew about it. I hope that they actually do something, cos Rose Mary is really very irate about her stuff being thrown away and the fact that she cannot do fund raising outside that branch of Starbucks (if you’re really curious, it’s the branch at the intersection of 41 West and Broadway, New York City).
Anyway the lady’s real name is still unknown. She refuses to tell me. So I’ll just call her Rose Mary. She said that the police handcuffed her, and were going to take her away for refusing to budge from her spot outside Starbucks and for generally making a big din. But later a Police Sergeant, a higher ranking guy, came over and told them to stop it cos she was doing nothing wrong, and to let her go. So she continued to camp outside the shop, picketing. It was really quite cold, and she was suffering all that just for her principles, that she should get justice done.
I asked her, “Don’t you think you can do something more for the poor people, given your intellect and education?” She could earn lots of money, and give it all away! But she said that she could bless and interact with individuals in this way, and I’d to agree. She told me that she’d come across people crying, and she could help them because of her training in clinical psychology. She could talk to them, and make them feel better.
People crying, walking down Broadway? Somehow it’s not hard to believe. Urban life – so many people, so few true friends, so few true relationships. Everyone just wants people to love and who could love him in return, and find a meaning in life. But, people in cities, paradoxically, are the most lonely, despite being surrounded with people. People in NY are marginally friendlier than people in Singapore, and it’s quite normal to greet people on the street and in the mall with a smile and a “how do you do?, but I guess, people don’t really open up to one another. Everyone wants to know someone, and be known, to love and be loved (not only romantic love, of course), but these things are so elusive.
And Rose Mary, she adds a human touch to the city. By offering to talk, and to listen, more than the cursory “how do you do?”. I spent almost 5 hours with her over those two days, talking to her and watching people go by, like she does. We shared our stories, she sharing the fact that she looked like a homeless bum but she actually had a PHD, and her purpose in life. I shared a bit of my life, my broken relationship, and she blessed me with a listening ear, and advice. It was good.
She learnt to be giving, and a bit altruistic, from her now-deceased father. Having survived the holocaust, he felt terribly guilty about being alive while most of his friends perished. And so he did the next best thing – having realised that his very life was a gift, he gave to the people around him, sacrificially. And I guess Rose Mary caught some of that.
We exchanged numbers. I hope to have time to contact her, once I reach UNC. She’s a lovely lady, and she gave me food (which she’d distribute to the homeless). Though it was almost-expired salad and sandwich, wet and grimy from being exposed to the elements, I ate it. Maybe we should appreciate what we have, more.
Hanging with Rose Mary also allowed me to meet some of her friends, who hang on the streets also. A young eleven year old boy from Senegal, selling 10 dollar umbrellas in the rain. He had eleven siblings. I almost cardiac-arrested when I heard that, until I realised that his mother was not a sow, but it was because his dad had four wives. I almost heart-attacked when I heard that one. And this little boy, he already had three girlfriends at the age of eleven. These Senegalese really practice free love, man.
And I also talked to a janitor who’d sweep the street corners. This Black guy from Brooklyn attends Times Square Church (I’d gone there the night before, and had held a two hour conversation with Pastor David on its ste-ps.) He was divorced, and was looking for love. I encouraged him, that it would be possible. But this guy, he was good man. He knew the area so well, all the shops and street corners and where to buy everything.
People, each with their stories. I’m just thankful to God that I had the privilege of knowing each of them. Having been raised in different cultures, many practices were different. Accents were different – it was somehow hard to communicate. But there were so many similarities. Cliché as it sounds, the human experience often runs common across cultures – hopes, fears, dreams, aspirations, emotions. The innocence of youth (young Senegal boy). The wisdom of age (Rose Mary). The search for love (Mr. Janitor). All these could be seen in Singapore, and in New York. In fact, New York ain’t all that different from Singapore, because people everywhere have a shared humanity.
Later that Friday night I caught Mama Mia at Broadway! It was great, so grand, and the music was lovely (partially cos I grew up on ABBA). At the end of the musical the cast performed three songs again – Mama Mia, Dancing Queen and Waterloo – and I could not resist it. Like some people scattered throughout the theatre, I got on my feet to dance. Good thing I sat right at the back, so I didn’t block anyone. Thank God for that, actually.
Mama Mia, here I go again, Mama, how could I resist you?
The cast of Mama Mia! The middle girl with the blonde hair, she's great. Probably somehow related to ABBA or something :)
Back at Bowery’s Whitehouse Hotel after Broadway, I ran into a couple of Korean-American girls who were chatting with Eisen. They told me about American life, and life in California, where they came from. We exchanged numbers so we could contact them when we do travel to the West Coast.
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I think i do like backpacking, it's fun in a dangerous way. I have the freedom to do anything I want, and go anywhere I want to go, and talk to anyone I want, without having to care about tour groups and rubbish like that. I can create my own experience, and I love this freedom.
It's dangerous, it's adventurous, but I guess as a young man these things appeal strongly to me.
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