To my friend, the exotic dancer:

Since coming to New York, I’ve heard friends talk about the many fun, summer activities here. As I sit at my laptop, once again on the west coast, in my email inbox are literally half-a-dozen emails from friends with lists of things to do in the city during the summer. Passport Fridays, for example, are a series of events out in Queens where, every Friday, you can go to a museum and celebrate a particular culture with dance lessons, movies, and music. Shakespeare is constantly playing in the park… and outdoor movie showings are frequent frequents. I know it’s small but having never spent a summer here, after two years, almost feels like unfinished business.

I guess that’s what “next” summers are for. Siiiigh.

As if the city didn’t have enough to do in-and-of-itself, I had to spend some of my short, two weeks there (all the time I’ve been in New York since late May) packing and moving into what will be my new apartment on Wall Street (which I will go into more detail about when I finally move in and can provide pictures).

In an attempt to move the least amount of stuff, I’ve been selling unnecessary things. I posted some items on craigslist, and others I described on flyers that I taped up in the laundry rooms in our apartment complex.

So. My friend, the exotic dancer.

Friday, mid-day, while packing/moving my stuff, I get a call. It’s a woman’s voice, energetic and excitable, like a young person, but with a certain rough, weathered, hint of gravel.

“Hi, is this Zach?”

“Yeah.”

“Hi. I’m Laura…”

…

“Uh… hi, Laura.”

“Hi. I saw your flyer in the laundry room. I think I want to buy your air-conditioner.”

“Oh, yeah? Cool. Ok. I’m actually in the middle of things right now – are you around later tonight? I could drop it by, or you could pick it up… I don’t know how late you stay awake, but I’m usually up pretty late.”

“Mmm… no… I can’t do that. I work the graveyard shift.”

“Oh, ok.”

“I’m a dancer.”

“Oh… ok… well…”

“An exotic dancer.”

“Oh… uh, cool. Umm… well… tomorrow is my last day here, so, if tonight doesn’t work, then how about tomorrow morning? My lease here is up and they kick me out at 1, so does anytime before then work for you?”

“Perfect. I’m up by noon for sure. Call me then?”

“Great.”

“What else do you have? I need all sorts of little things…”

“Hmm… I have a broom… you want that?”

“Oh yeah! It’ll save on parking.”

“Mmm.”

“You didn’t get that at all did you?”

“Huh? Get what?”

“Like a witch. Flying on a broomstick? Saves parking? It’s okay.”

“Oh. Heh. Sorry, I’m just having a hectic day, so it’s hard for me to focus. Why don’t I just call you tomorrow around noon and we can talk more then.”

Saturday morning… I call as promised at noon. We agreed to meet up in the courtyard so she could show me how to get to her room. She was a self-described petite, blonde, “couldn’t miss me” kind of girl… and she was. I’d even go so far as to say she was pretty cute, though there was something definitely a little off about her. Not necessarily off-putting, just off. All she wanted were the AC unit and broom. In return, she gives me $20, all in ones…

As we’re wrapping up our business together, she starts asking me a little bit about myself: where I’m from, where I’m moving to, what I do in the New York… turns out she’s a recent transplant from Florida, loving life in the city. The subways, she tells me, are her favorite part.

I begin saying goodbye when she tells me:

“It was really nice meeting you.”

“Oh. Yeah…” and for lack of anything better to say, “best of luck…”

“Yeah… you know, it’s funny. Even though I work in a place where I meet a lot of guys, I don’t really ever make any friends.”

“Mm-hm. Well… (shrug)”

“No normal guys there, you know? Plus they all like to drink, and I don’t… (nervous laughter)”

“Mmm.”

And as her eyes began to water, she blurts out, “I’m really just looking for a friend. I just need a nice, normal friend.”

Yikes!

I didn’t know what to say. My heart began to break a little, and, out of pity, I almost offered to be her friend. But to what end? I didn’t really want to be her friend. And to be completely honest, I was a little weirded out by where this interaction was going.

But I couldn’t just leave her like that – tearing up and "just wanting a friend". And seeing her start to cry like that made me begin to WANT to help her. So I told her, “Well, you know… I’m leaving the city for a while, but there are all these things that I would have wanted to do had I been here. You should check them out…”

I began to tell her about passport Fridays, Midsummer’s Night Swing (dancing) at Lincoln Center, and all the other summer events I was sad to have to leave behind. As I did, I could see the sadness evaporate from her body as she excitedly jotted down a list of things to look up.

I, too, felt a certain sense of relief thinking about how, even if I couldn’t personally enjoy some of these events myself, I was at least able to pass along the potential for good times to someone else – someone who probably needed them more than me.

I attempted to leave again and I wished her luck once more. She responded, this time, with a smile and a thanks. As I walked back to my own apartment, I felt overwhelmingly cheesy thinking that, just then, a lot more had been exchanged that a few dollars, an AC unit, and easy parking.

So this one goes out to Laura. I hope you find some friends tucked away somewhere in this great, big, city. With complete sincerity, best of luck.