I Don’t Miss My Friends. I Miss the Strangers.
For a New Yorker who always tried to connect with the strangers in his midst, life under quarantine feels especially alienating
Last summer, before the coronavirus washed across the face of the earth, stripping the markets bare of sanitary products and scattering us into our fearful bolt-holes of indefinite self-quarantine, I started looking strangers in the eye.
To be clear, I’m not talking about situations where it’s socially acceptable to do this, like in a bar, or paying for groceries. I’m talking about knowingly violating that most sacred law of urban life: the law of civil inattention, where deliberate indifference is a form of courtesy. I’m talking about making eye contact with random strangers, on the streets of New York City, and — god forbid — sometimes even saying hello to them.
This whole thing started out as an experiment. I was researching a book about talking to strangers — why we don’t, when we will, and the raft of emotional and social benefits that can occur when we do. Talking to strangers can be a tonic for many of our most intractable social ills, from loneliness, to political polarization, to prejudice. One source pointed out to me that eye contact is the basis of all in-person human connection, so if you…
