Why I Love New York

I was walking across E. 12th street recently, soaking in my new surroundings in Greenwich Village, when I notice something out of the corner of my eye. A young boy, probably about nine years old, was to my left on the sidewalk, matching my pace as I walked. I would speed up and this young guy, weighed down by the enormous bookbag on his back, would work to stay up with me. I had a choice at this point: I could ignore this behavior or find out what the heck was going on.

I turned to the kid: "Are you shadowing me?"
"Yep," he replied. "My mother says when I'm walking home from school by myself, I should find someone who looks not too creepy and act like I'm walking with them so I don't look like I'm alone."
"Well, I guess I should take that as a compliment," I said. "No school today?"
"Today, we have a half-day," he continued. "Yesterday, I found an old man to walk with."
"Was he easier to keep up with than me?"
"No, actually harder." Then he asked, "so where do you live?"
"I don't live around here," I explained, "I work at NYU."
"Oh, so you'll be turning at 5th Avenue, then."
"Yes, I will," I replied, amused that this nine year old boy knew his way around the neighborhood better than I do.
At the corner, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. That kid brightened my day. It feels good to be "not too creepy."