A couple of days a go I was talking to a dear friend who really wants to leave New York. She's lived here her whole life and is tired of the hassle. She just wants to be left alone. I can understand her point. New York is not a place where you are free to live your own life in isolation.

For example, on my way home tonight I was offered a ride from a Hassidic Jew. Most likely he was doing a mitzvah, and that would have been the only safe ride from a stranger I could ever accept. I decided not to risk it and continued making my way to the subway. On the next block, a blond dude dressed to go out for the evening yelled "High five, quick, quick, quick." to me. This was a request I felt I could oblige.

When I was finally seated on the train, I was reading an interesting article in the New Yorker about scientific discovery when a guy got on, who kept repeating "buck naked" while laughing, clapping and stomping. The commotion continued , so I looked up to see a college age guy with his pants around his knees, his colorful boxer shorts exposed. He soon composed himself and began to follow his friends to the other end of the car.

He stopped halfway, gasped and announced in a singsong voice that he may have found the love of his life. He then began to sing and dance for a group of four women who were not from the neighborhood. I knew they were out of place because of a combination of three factors: 1. they were white, 2. they were middle aged, and 3. they had a great deal of shopping bags from fancy stores. We don't see a lot of that in Bed Stuy.

His performance wasn't half bad. He had a great voice, and could really move. Not to mention, although he was clearly intoxicated, he was coming up with really hilarious rhymes. One of my favorites being "Lady you don't have to put on those shades, you could be my love slave, my love slave my love slave." My eyes met those of the very bewildered woman. I laughed out loud and shrugged. When she laughed, it was contagious. Everyone started laughing and shaking their heads. Now that our performer had a captive audience, he really poured it out. He was still going when I got off.

While it is true that living in New York guarantees a certain amount of hassle, it isn't all bad. My friend asked me if strangers in LA leave you alone. I said for the most part, yes. If you were to go out to a particularly clubbly place on a weekend night, you are guaranteed to be looked up and down by girls who are just barely 18 and appear to have walked into a Forever 21 completely naked and walked out wearing only what happened to cling to or become otherwise entangled on their person. Other than that the worst that usually happens is that you get honked at or completely ignored.

There's hassle wherever you go, and for the most part it is benign. The one thing I find is that you have to assume positive intent. When I don't it just ends up making me mad, and has no effect on the hassler.