When I first moved to New York someone told me that you are not a New Yorker until you have cried in public. It hasn’t happened to me yet, but it’s something I see nearly every day (especially on the trains). I never know what to do in these situations; do I ask the person if they are okay? Most people look as though they don’t want to be bothered.
Then today I came across this article in the NY Times about crying in public. It turns out that the only place to get some privacy in this city is, in fact, in public. It’s true that cramped apartments and small offices leave us no where to go but outside when we need some space.
I guess next time I will turn away to give them what little privacy I can.