NYC, day 1 - New York's Finest

I left the theatre completely overwhelmed by the power of next to normal. After a brief call to Fabio, I hopped onto the train back to Harlem. Twenty five minutes later I emerged into a dark, unfamiliar neighborhood. I blinked a couple times, got my bearings as best as I could, and started walking with purpose in what I hoped was the right direction. I quickly realized I was hopelessly out of place. In my mind, everything from my clothes to the color of my skin screamed “outsider”. Not making eye contact with anyone on the street, I quickened my pace. After several blocks, I started to worry. I was approaching the cross-street that Fabio had suggested I avoid. Granted, it was an area of the street farther from the well-lit Broadway where I was walking, but at the sight of the street sign I surreptitiously slipped my phone out of my pocket and started to dial.

At that very moment, my phone rang. It was Fabio. Because of the pace I was keeping, I had passed his street and was several blocks beyond him. I whirled around and quickly marched back the way I came.

There is safety in numbers, and once I had rejoined my host, the walk home became much less intense. Not knowing the neighborhood, I let Fabio take the lead. We stopped for a moment at an intersection, a bit carried away in conversation, and eventually turned onto the side-street. As we neared the next intersection, I heard a voice from the street. “Excuse me, could we talk to you for a minute.” My natural instinct was to bolt. Thankfully I suppressed that knee-jerk reaction. The voice belonged to a policeman who was stepping out of his car. His partner approached from the other side, and a third officer came approached from behind. We were surrounded.

Apparently there was a robbery in the neighborhood and the suspects were a pare of Caucasian males. The officer asked for identification and I produced my Utah ID card. A bemused smile crossed his face and his partner asked where we were coming from. I told them I'd just been to a Broadway show and offered to show them the playbill and ticket stub. No, they said, that wouldn't be necessary, they had just seen us pause at the intersection then head the other way when we saw the car. Frankly, neither of us had seen the police car, but because our abrupt “detour” up the side street looked suspicious to them, the officers felt it important to investigate.

Ultimately, they just took our information and let us go on our way. As we left, I resisted the urge to ask for a picture with the officers. Nothing would be more entertaining for a scrapbook than a nice photo with the officers who briefly detained me in Harlem on suspicion of burglary.