The streets felt like they would never end and my feet were feeling heavier and heavier with every step I took. I spent hours on a plane from California and was making my way through Queens, New York to find my friends apartment. I was running against the clock and needed to get to my friends to make it to my first New York dinner on time.
I was passing along this petite Italian restaurant on the corner of Queens Blvd and 70th street. I noticed a man with a pink scarf wrapped over his head, long red flowing pants, and an aura of what I imagined the seventies were like mixed with a David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust persona all wrapped up in a 6’2 foot frame.
The man seemed to be in his mid-30’s, though I’ve never been good at that game, and was with a younger man. They were just strolling along laughing and singing. They caught my eye because it was odd to not see people in a rush. Ever since I landed at JFK, everyone seemed to be late to where they were going. He noticed my stare, kept eye contact, and simply smiled.
He then began to approach me as I smiled back. “You look like a vibrant soul; can I see your palm?” Though I was surprised by the gesture, my heart was surprised and warm from the compliment. The weight of my fifty-pound bag I had been traveling with was feeling heavier and the sweat hugging my face made me want nothing more than to get to my friends house and shower. As I waddle from one leg to the other awkwardly, at the last minute I said, “Why not?”
He gazed at my palm with his “ohs” and “ahs” and mentioned a line on my hand he had only seen a couple other people with. I wasn’t sure if this was a usual reaction, a routine, or if I could hold this experience as my very own. While his fingers tickled my palm, his words shared many insights.
He offered me some helpful advice, made aware some future occurrences to look out for, and some past events that I didn’t fully connect to. We enjoyed some small talk and laughs as bystanders stared in disbelief that I would set aside a few minutes for these free-spirited beings.
The experience felt short lived as I got lost in the giggles and “ohs,” and “ahs.” The last thing I asked before we parted ways was if traveling was the right thing to be doing right now and he replied, “Be a gypsy, darling. Always be a gypsy.”
