New York City never really doubts itself. Even when it stinks. Or when it brings out the worst impulses of every one of its citizens - all of them seemingly making a poor decision simultaneously. With a dollop of tourists oozing out the sides, blocking traffic, bumping past you, darting in front of cars on an erratically moving electric bike going the wrongest of ways, making too much noise, being inconveniently and chronically homeless, talking way too loudly about inane things, or in deal-making language that is the conversational equivalent of manspreading. Still, the attitude is a kind of charm, they tell me. "Charm, my ass," I think on certain days. On others it's more of a "good for you". There's a man who stands outside a church on my route to work who greets every single person who walks by with earnest sincerity even though he is more than half the time ignored. he doesn't ask for a thing either. But most of the ones walking past who look away are plugged into something else or have an outer shell of wariness not easily penetrated. Is he deluded? Yes, obviously you have to have a bit of willful ignorance about your surroundings to be so positive but when I walk past him and exchange a greeting I'm temporarily immunized to the city's callousness for at least a block or two. Until it jostles me back out of my reverie or I have to dart out of the way of a rolling projectile aimed at my ankles.