Happy Face

There’s a weird phenomenon happening in NYC that I don't understand. I may have written about this before, but I’m doing it again. Random strangers in New York City constantly feel compelled to comment on my state of being.

A construction worker on the subway once asked why I looked so unhappy at 7am on a Monday morning. Some guy on a bus packed with loud teenagers tapped on my shoulder to ask why I looked so annoyed. And, the other day, a lady stopped me on the sidewalk and said, “Why so glum?” as I walked out of the doctor’s office.

1) My facial expressions aren't anybody’s business. I’m pretty certain that I didn’t ask for their opinion. And, if I didn't look like I was in a good mood before, I definitely don't look like it now.

2) Why would a stranger (that I will never see again) care if I were in a bad mood? And, don’t say it’s because they’re genuinely concerned. Puh-leez. I’m in a good mood 90% of the time, so I attribute this mistakenly interpreted “sourpuss” face to the fact that I am probably deep in thought the moment they decide to brazenly comment.

3) If something is wrong, do they really want to know? I doubt it. But, hey, if they’re willing to listen (for free) then I'm ready.

4) This is NEW YORK CITY! I had probably just been:

1. Elbowed by a disgruntled commuter
2. Sideswiped by a kid’s backpack
3. Cussed out by a grandma
4. Cut off by a speeding car
5. Pooped on by a pigeon (not uncommon)

My gloomy face can be caused by a number of reasons! Or, better yet, maybe that’s just my face, New York. Have you considered that? Maybe my wrinkled-forehead-pursed-lips-squinted-eyes sourpuss expression that sometimes masks my normally cheery face is just the way I look.

Humpf.