people.

Sometimes people still shock me.

Like tonight, when a driver sped up his car to come as close as he possibly could to hitting me and some other guy as we crossed an intersection in Chelsea. I mean, no matter how much it sucks to be late, I’m pretty sure it would suck way worse to kill two people on your way to wherever it is you’re going on a rainy Tuesday evening. Manslaughter is not cute. Neither is jail.

And then there are the people who just want to talk. They share details of their life with you, these strangers, and you wonder whether they have friends to talk to–or if, in a way, the freedom of talking to a total stranger is a little like a Catholic confessing to a priest. Anonymity begets some kind of liberty, I guess.

But tonight, I was sitting on the train playing solitaire, when the guy next to me blurts out in my direction, “My whole life’s about to change.”

“Excuse me?”

“My whole life–it’s about to change…I just got accepted to a college in Ohio. OHIO. I’ve been in Brooklyn since I was six years old, and now I’m 28, about to start college in a state that’s right next to Kentucky, of all places.”

“Wow–congratulations on going to college. That’s huge!” I say, sensing he’s not done.

“Yeah, I guess–but I’m f***ing scared. I’m gonna be so much older than the rest; I’m gonna be f***ing F***ed.”

And I’d never heard that word used quite so many times in a row like that before; I couldn’t help it, I started to laugh. It was funny, guys.

“You’re gonna be fine,” I assure him, stifling my laughter. “You’re going to a university?”

“Yeah, in Portsmouth.”

“Universities are huge. There will be people your age, for sure. And, anyway–once you’re an adult, you’re an adult. The exact number of years you’ve been here becomes a little less important in terms of relating to other adults, I think. What are you studying?”

“Biology. I’m Indian; we’re just good at that stuff.”

“Pre med?”

“Pre med.”

“Your parents must be so proud!”

“I don’t have parents,” he says, matter of fact. And seeing my sad look, he rushes on, “It’s okay. I was raised in an institution and then I was on my own, starting in high school.”

“On your own? As a kid?”

“Yeah, I paid rent and stuff.”

“How in the world did you afford to pay rent?”

“It’s Brooklyn; I had my ways,” he says in a way that doesn’t exactly leave me feeling like he wants any more questions on the topic.

“Listen,” I say, “I don’t know you–but I’m proud of you. This is big. Some people are so afraid of change, that they never live up to their potential–they do the same thing they’ve always done, and then they wonder why nothing ever happens in their life. Not you, though–you’re moving and going to school. You’re allowing something to happen in your life-making room for something that could actually be amazing. Just be yourself. I think you’ll do great.”

“And,” he says, “If I don’t like it…”

“You can leave,” I say.

Then he introduces himself, tells me his name, that he’s on a show on MTV right now. Unfortunately, the pop references I actually get are a very specific demographic that involves just a few shows (none of which are on MTV) and some music. I don’t recognize the show he’s on.

“So you’re leaving your show–this business!–to go to school in Ohio,” I say out loud.

“Yeah…it’s crazy, I guess…”

“No. It’s awesome. You follow your heart, and if it happens to take you to Ohio for a few years to become a doctor, then, awesome.”

As I was nearing my stop, he asks for my info. “Can we keep in touch?” he says. “I don’t even have to see you–nothing like that–it’s just that this has been such an amazing conversation.”

Why not? I figure.  And I give him some info and rush out at my stop, feeling like life is nothing if not interesting and humans are nothing without each other in this mad, mad world.