New York Lookaway

One of my favorite things about living in New York is the lookaway. You're walking down the street, you look at someone, they look at you, and then... you both look away. As fast as you can, just to avoid any unintentional human interaction. Because god knows we don't want any of that. In a given New York day you will engage in anything between five and six hundred lookaways. I average around seventy six (I've done three just writing this while sitting on a park bench).

In anticipation of these encounters, I always make sure to carry around a package of mints. Real mints - not those freaky mint strips that you dissolve on your tongue like LSD. (What the hell is that? How efficient do we need our mint delivery to be?) I'm talking big, hard, old school certs type mints - the type that Kathy Rigby used to hawk on TV in the seventies because they make your breath smell good and have only three calories. I keep these handy in my pocket at all times and when I pass someone one street who looks at me and then immediately looks away, I bean them in the side of the head with a mint. Just BANG, a mint in the side of the head. Then I walk innocently by as if nothing happened. And if they correctly identify me as the mint assailant and try to give me a withering stare, I glare at them indignantly and scream at the top of my lungs "WHERE'S MY MINT!?!"

If you think that's antisocial and makes people think I'm crazy, try actually offering a mint to someone who happens to glance at you on the subway. They will spray you with mace faster than you can say the Freshmaker.