beholders.org

It has always puzzled me, how protective we are of our surrounding space. How difficult it has become to look at each other and communicate. Why do we avoid looking at people even during elevator 30 second rides, to the point that they now started adding tvs to elevators, gyms and train rides? 

 

NYC is a very particular social experiment. Because we are constantly on close proximity to others, watching that behavior is quite easy. I had to turn the attention to my own behavior while having lunch at Whole Foods.

 

For those who have never been to Whole Foods, it is a market of sorts, which prides itself on its clean, edgy surroundings, fresh, mostly organic food and environmentally conscious merchandise. It is also a place where you can buy freshly cooked food by the pound in an enticing variety of Indian, comfort food,  sushi, salads and desserts, among others.

What always fascinates me about Whole Foods is not their food (though it is quite good), but the seating arrangements of some of its eating area. I will focus on the one on 59th Street in Manhattan, NY, where I had a late lunch a few days ago.

There are 3 types of seating arrangements at that particular Whole Foods: A small quantity of family style booth tables, many collective seating tables with stools, which seat about 12-20 people at a time, and, the most interesting one for me, the back to back table. Why are these interesting?

Because, for a brief period of time, while eating, you are not only seating at a table which you will usually share with at least 1 more person, but you are also inches away from another stranger's back.

Today in particular, I was painfully aware of the invisible lines separating us. I had a huge coat  which I pushed to the side and kept checking to see if any part of it was crossing my self delimited 50% of the bench. The person behind me purposely ignored me as she talked to her friend, though I could feel the warmth of her back almost touching mine. 

Being someone who is very comfortable eating by myself, I felt very protective of my side of the table, so it was with a sense of resistance that I said yes when a middle aged man asked if he could share the table with me and proceeded to spread his things (a crossword section of the newspaper, his glasses, an exagerated number of napkins and several containers of food), on what was obviously my half of the table.

Trying very hard to avoid looking at each other, we consumed our food in silence, looking down at the table or reading something as uninteresting as the labels on the containers.

Then, all of a sudden, he left the table, leaving behind his bag, wallet and glasses and walked all the way into the market, for what seemed like a significant amount of time. Oddly, in that small gesture, I recognized an essence in him I had often seen in myself; The deep desire to believe that people are essentially good and honest, and the willingness to take a chance on someone you've never met before. Even though he was taking a chance on a stranger who could have, very easily, walked off with his things, within 30 seconds, never to be seen again.

He didn't ask me watch over his things, which would at least have given me a sense of responsibility for them, or told me where he was going. He just trusted that this woman, across the table from him, listening to an audiobook on her Zen, would innately care for his things until he returned, or at least, not be willing to take them.

Throughout history we've shared food and our tables with strangers who had travelled through towns and villages and needed shelter, in a time before hotels made that courtesy only granted by payment. Then why was sitting with another person an awkward event nowadays? Has our sense of being separated from others made us afraid of even this minimum contact with anyone who we haven't established a pre-exisiting relationship with?

Have our pre-historic clan instincts remained so out of place that we still view any strangers as a dangerous enemy, who has come to ransack our community?
Then why had this seemingly unconcious act on his part cause me to drop my defenses so rapidly?

He returned to the table some time later with a bottle of some flavored water drink and with a slight grin on his face (though still not looking at me in the eyes) and continued to eat his food quietly.

At that point, a sense of comfort came over me. I reached for the chocolate I had just bought  and said: "Would you like some?". And the look of gratitude on his face probably matched the the look of those travellers who, after walking for days with little food and shelter, get offered a hot meal and a roof over their heads by some friendly villager. He thanked me no less than four times!
I asked him to keep an eye on my things while I went to the restroom, and he kindly responded with: "Of course".

When I returned, we talked about the weather, my heavy jacket and the price of the food. I excused myself and walked away, thinking about how easy it had been to share my 50% of the table with that kind stranger.
As I left the place, heading slowly towards the subway, the irony of he situation wasn't lost on me. I had left his company to go sit on a train, all the way home, touching people, across from people, side by side with people I would try very hard to pretend were not even there...

 

By Taty Sena