5. Felipe

Day 5: Felipe

As wonderful and efficient as public transportation can be in New York City, the weekends on the MTA is- le blow. Let's paint the scene- lost, angry, and confused faces, lots of foot stomping, cramped trains, plasters of posters for alternative routes, arrows for shuttle buses, and people getting off from work, heading to work, heading to their own weekend fun. You'll hear- people sucking their teeth, angry groans, kids shouting, rumbling of the train tracks, and the conductor yelling over the screechy speaker at every stop to warn passengers of the fate of their ride, unless they choose something else. And if your train is not in service, well, it's like a hectic and fun scavenger hunt.

With the craziness, the chance of sparking up a conversation with someone on the train is incredibly high and very simple. That's exactly how I met Felipe.

The doors of the subway pulled open. I walked in and quickly plopped down on an empty bench. He came in after me and squinted above me to check the stops for the train. The bright colored computer screen winked back at him. He looked at me and pointed above me, "Is this train going to Queens Plaza? To the 7 train?"

I nodded, "Yes."

He shook his head, his short black hair swinging along. "These trains on weekends... no good. So confusing."

"Especially on weekends..."

"...Especially weekends!" He raised his arm and held onto the pole. He skin was summer brown, hands roughly wrinkled, strong nails cut short, and a little bit of dirt between his nails. His facial hair was vividly black, Van Dyke style. "And then they want to raise the price."

"...And charge a dollar for a new metro card!" I sank into my seat, "I mean, I guess it's good. They're going green." I smiled and gave him two thumbs up.

He softly chuckled and shook his head, "No bueno. Raise prices and service stays the same."

Felipe is from the beautiful islands of "Guatemala, Guatemala," where the "weather is always hot" and the "water is very blue." As much as he misses home, he loves New York City. He's been here for over 20 years now, working and living on the west side of Manhattan.

We were on the train heading towards Queens. With curiosity, I asked, "Where you headed?"

His eyes lit up. He turned to face me and with the brightest smile I've ever seen, "I am going to see the love of my life."

"Queensboro Plaza," the electronic sang over the intercom. We both got up, left the train and walked across the platform. We stepped through the open doors of the 7 train heading to Queens. I looked at him, unsure of where to sit.

'Should I sit next to him? Would it be creepy if I did?' Question after question ran through my head. And then a little voice said, 'Why not? It would be awkward if you didn't sit next to him and you're both on the SAME train.' I proudly choose the bright orange seat next to him.

We continued to chat about Guatamala, New York City and his job in construction. He asked me what I was doing. I told him I was currently seeking employment. His phone loudly started belching the Entertainer. With snail speed, he fumbled to get his ancient flip phone. He looked at the caller ID and nodded with excitement, "Hola?"

I twiddled my thumbs as he chatted away in Spanish. People around the train were looking at us with a surprised-are-you-really-talking-to-a-stranger face. He finally hung up and said, "Sorry, that was my daughter, Caroline." Caroline is currently in college, 19 years old, and living with her mother in Queens. The more he spoke about Caroline, the bright rays peeled away his lonely mask, his voice nurturing, filled with love. Caroline, his daughter, is the love of his life.

He placed his hand over his heart and choked, "She has my heart." I smiled, touched, thinking about my mother.

Felipe gave me his business card and got up for his stop. Before he got off the train, he looked at me and said, "Maybe he will help you find a job."

"What?" I asked, confused.

He pointed up to the ceiling, "God. He has helped me a lot. He will help you." And the Felipe vanished within the masses of passengers trying to find their way.

4. Marcella

Day 4- Marcella

I was in the mood for some street food. Radius check- Halal cart...peanuts... more halal... hot dogs... waffles... and across the street, I spotted an evergreen truck with Lady Liberty screaming, "TriBeca Tacos." And with my California blues lusting for some tacos, I crossed the street.

There wasn't a line, so my instinct was to walk right past it. But then... my tummy REALLY wanted tacos. So I turned around to have thankfully been face to face with a friendly chalkboard. Having made my decision, I got on line.

The gentleman before me was speaking with the taco truck lady in Spanish. They were speaking fluidly, laughing, and really hitting it off. As I stood there, it hit me- I could talk to her too... I could be that person!

Finally, it was my turn. The woman looked like she was in her mid-thirties. She was fun-sized with deep sun-kissed skin, sharp gentle eyes, and strong dark hair wrapped in a hair net. She was wearing a tight hot pink tee shirt that brighten up the inside of her small food cart. With her clear gloves and spatula in hand, she pointed to me, "What do you want mami?"

"I want two tacos. The first one is tofu. And the second one... which do you think is better? The one with the pineapple of the one with the pork?"

"Pork," she said wisely, like Yoda. She turned around and started putting magic on the grill. We listened to the tapping of her spatula on the grill, scooping and soft dropping of the ingredients, and with her eyes on the grill, her hands systematically moved around taking things from their home.

I leaned my chin on the window, watching her performance, "Busy today?"

With her eyes on the grill, "Ehhh..." Flip, chop, and sizzle. "You know... this push cart- not a lot of money. You know, no permit," She made a square gesture with her hands. "So no body... yeah, you know... Maybe... 20... a day..."

"So how long are you usually here?"

"Eh, maybe till 8pm. Working... 5 times a week. I no cook when I go home..." we both laughed. She continued, "I cooking all the time here... so I no like to cook at home."

She is originally from Mexico. She came to New York City 23 years ago and although she likes New York, she often misses home. She has been working with the TriBeca Taco truck for almost 5 years. I asked for her name.

"Marcella... Mar-SEE-el-LA," she said proudly. She grabbed a to go box and grabbed two tortillas. She began scooping the goodies on top of the tortillas.

"MAR-see-EL-lah," I repeated.

"Si! Marcella... What sauce honey?"

A platoon of sauce bottles glared at me. Pressure.... "-I don't know. What do you think is best?"

She looked at the sauces, "Em..." She pointed to the bottle that looked like the rest of the bottles, "The verde sauce is I like the best."

"Okay, sure," I said.

She picked up the bottle and painted my tacos, "I have son." Marcella smiled as she handed me my box, "I have two sons... $6 honey."

Front: TriBeca taco itself and Tofu taco with Verde sauce, by Marcella!

She was leaning outside the window where my chin once was. I was fished inside my wallet for money. "How old?"

"One is 9, the other 14..." She smiled as we exchanged box and money, "I love them very, very much."

We lingered for a moment and made eye contact. I smiled, "Thank you Marcella. Have a good day. Bye bye."

"Bye bye now," her voice faded into the soft melodies of Soho. I felt Marcella and her truck get sucked into a time warp as the next customer stepped up. That was it. That was my 10 minute opportunity with Marcella.

3. George

Day 3- George

This one is short and sweet.

I was picking up some print outs from my local Staples store in Bayside, Queens. An elder gentleman was waiting behind me and picking up his things as well. I smiled at him. He smiled back.

"Happy Monday!" I said cheerfully. "How's your Monday going?"

George has pure white hair and was wearing gold-rim glasses. He was wearing blue jeans and a green and black water-proof jacket. He leaned against the counter casually and looked at me with surprised. Surprise that I was speaking with him. There were wrinkles around his eyes from age, life, and experiences. I just wanted to put my hands on his face and ask him to tell me what he has seen. 

"My Monday? Well, I'm just happy to be alive today." George looked at me with a serious face. "I am grateful to have gotten up to see another day."

'I am grateful too, so that I could have met you,' was my thought and wished I said it. Even the smallest interaction with someone in the same room as you, who you may not even exchange a word with, may change your life forever. One of my favorite books by Mitch Albom, "Five People You Meet in Heaven," touches upon this idea.

Strangers are intriguing to me, because with a simple, "hi," the course of your life will go in a completely different direction. I'm obsessed with Ted Talks, so here's an awesome video for you to watch. My main takeaway from Kathleen Taylor is this- "People at the end of their lives are incapable of bullshit."

Rethinking the Bucket List: Kathleen Taylor

With that said, we should be living our lives true to ourselves, all the time.

2. "The Subway Artist of New York"

Day 2- Enrico Miguel Thomas

Grand Central Terminal. It's like a whole other world. So much to soak in! There are people found peacefully snoozing away on benches while others are booking it to make their departing train. Some are trying to find their way while some are admiring the architecture- from high ceilings, chandlers, and little boutiques along the way.

I was one of those on a mission. My buddies and I was let loose in the wild jungle to do whatever it takes to create a result of inspiration. Here we were, getting ready to leave, when at the corner of my eye I caught an easel with a subway map and an artist deep into his work, gracefully drawing every well-thought-out stroke.

Yes, an artist was drawing on a subway map with a sharpie. Too cool.

What Enrico was currently working, until we said, "hi."

So I skipped my way behind him and excitedly shouted, "Hey! What are you up to?"

He jumped, startled., "Oh god, you scared me."

He glanced up, his eyes confused, as if my voice broke him out of his deep trance. He rubbed his hands to his face and let out a soft chuckle. He looked at my friends and me, and says, "You guys aren't the jebeezus people, are you?"

We laughed. Nope, we just wanted to stop and chat. His name is "Enrico," Enrico Miguel Thomas. His smile was smooth, sly, and shining with authenticity. Enrico spoke softly, a deep humbleness in his tone. He held his Sharpie uniquely, strongly between his thumb, index, and middle finger trio, his heart and soul bleeding across the map with his every stroke. He may often be spotted sketching away in the underground subway. As the weather gets nicer, he'll take his art outside. Sometimes it would take him 6-7 hours or more!

Enrico excitedly pulled out some of his other artworks from his packed bookbag, his proud creations on a subway map, as well his feature in Time Out magazine. He is coming back from a break and looking to come back into the world of art.

By now, more people were looking, and even stopping to chat with us. He asked us to watch his things as he ran quickly to the bathroom. I couldn't believe it, he left everything with us. In only chatting with him for 20 minutes, he trusted us with his belongings.

When he came back, I asked him for his favorite quote. He thought for a long while, running through his brain for his favorite. "There's this quote that I've read from a book when I was younger. And this quote has stuck with me since then..."

"Well, what is it?"

He smiled and said, " 'The patient knows.' "

There's something comfortable and trusting about strangers. It's all about the way YOU are being, how you choose to show up. Everyone is always in reaction to you. So if you think it's awkward... it's is awkward because you say so! Enrico is AWESOME and when you catch him sketching away on his easel, be sure to stop and say "hi." Promise he's an amazing and inspiring friend you'd definitely want to meet!

Be sure to check out Enrico's artwork and learn more about him here! Shalom and there are plenty of artists running wild in the jungle waiting to meet you.

The amazing Enrico with a completed work he was sharing with us.

1. Susan and Maximus Fluffiness

Day 1- Susan & Maximus Fluffiness

It's always a wonderful day in the city, even with the rain. But this day, the sun is out and smiling, the wind is playing tag along my head, and the temperature was tempting me to shed off my winter coat. I was walking along 25th Street towards the Highline when suddenly, Max, my muse, caught my eye.

Max was beautiful. There was German in him, but there was more to the mystery. He was huge, with rooted long, black, silky hair that faded to gold. Eyes were soft brown like a well traveled pair of converses, yet shining with youth. He was vibrating with so much fluffiness and love, that I just wanted to cuddle with him and never let go.

Before I could stop myself, my conviction kicked the words out of my mouth, "What a beautiful dog you have!"

She smiled at me, looked at Max, and gushed, "Isn't he?"

We walked across the street together. And as natural as the weather in New York City, we transitioned into a deeper conversation for as far as a city block, that lead to their home. She jumped into the story of uniting with Max at the rescue pound. He was found wildly roaming the streets in the Bronx. He is 4 years old now, but when they found him a year ago, he wouldn't come close to sniffing your hand.

"The pound named him, 'Max,' but I like to call him 'Maximus Fluffiness!' "

By now, we have stopped walking. She showed me the new hand shake command Max recently learned, Max proudly smiling when he got it right. As we conversed away, Max sprawled himself out on the middle of the sidewalk, as if it was his home, hanging out, and comfortably leaning his body on my foot. Every stroller that came by, she told Max to make room. Max would gracefully hop up, watch the stroller pass by, and peacefully lay back down. Max was a mirror reflection of his owner.

Her name is Susan. She had straight bangs and the rest of her fiery red hair was tucked away in her Columbia-blue beret. "Well, this is where we live," said Susan. I asked if she was born and raised in NY based on her knowledge about the upcoming construction with the Highline.

"I'm originally from Boston. You see, I feel in love with a New York boy and he lived in this apartment right after college." She pointed to glass doors. "...Been living here for 20 years now" Susan chucked and whipped out her native tongue, "Sometimes, I'll pak my ca on the street and feed meata. Then, I'll grab a glass of wata."

Before we parted ways, we hugged. Even though it was the first time I've spoke ever to Susan and Max, we chatted as if we had a Sunday brunch tradition at our favorite diner in Chelsea every week with Max sprawled out between us.

As we continued on our ways, I waved to my new buddies, "I'll see you later!"

What kind of awesome pets and friends have you met along the way? Comment below and share! The next time you're taking a walk, take a break and say "hi" to someone who's with their pet. Your friends are waiting meet to you!

Strangely Familiar

Whenever I would sit on the bus or a subway cart, I am always amazed by everyone around me. Some are asleep and nodding their heads to the rhythm of the train while others are nodding to the beat of their headphones. Some are shouting on the phone while some are shouting at each other. Others stare blankly with their heads in the clouds while some stare at their electronics. While some are carrying mountains of grocery while some only have their coin purse. The rest are standing while some are sitting. There are elder, young, babies... well, you get the picture.

But what's even more fascinating, is that no matter where we are all coming from or where or destination is, all of us, in this very cart, all shared 20 seconds of our lives together. A lot may happen in 20 seconds! And often times, not even a single word exchanged. Once those doors open, some leave, some stay. Our lives may or may not cross again.

The concept is simple- 1 year, 365 days, I will talk to 365 people and share their story here. Because at the end of the day, no matter how far apart we may seem, we all want the same thing- to live our dreams. And everyone deserves their chance to shine.