Do you have anyone in New York City who you are worried about running into? 

I interviewed people and asked them who they least want to see.

Courtney is a sometimes playwright and is in her 50s. She lives in Fort Greene.

H: So, who is the person who you least want to run into in New York City, you don’t have to give a name, but I would be interested in you describing them a little bit. 

Courtney: I would least like to run into Charles Isherwood, a former critic of the New York Times, who gave me a terrible review on my first off Broadway production that devastated me for years. After it came out, all I did was think about how much I wanted to see him and the pithy things I would say, but I’m pretty sure that he wouldn’t care. So actually, I don’t want to see him. 

He specifically spoke about how “direct address,” when the actor speaks directly to the audience, was a cop out and then he spent years praising Will Eno’s work who does a lot of direct address, and it has become huge in the theater over the last 15 years and is an often-used device. So, I’d have said something about that to him. And I’d also say to him, “I think you’re small.” It was devastating because once you get a bad review in the Times people are like, “Your play sucks.”  And to be honest, at least once every two weeks I still think about it, even after all these years. 

H: Were there any parts of the review that hurt because you actually agreed with them or did you completely disagree with him?

Courtney: It just felt very snarky. It didn’t feel critical as much as it felt mean. I think it was a good play. 

Judah is eleven years old. 

Judah: I think the person I’ve least wanted to run into on the street is this guy who used to bully me. Starting back in the first grade. He was one of the worst bullies I’ve ever met. Maybe the worst. So, if I saw him, I would probably make an effort to speedwalk right past him and have him not notice me. 

One of the things I remember, there were these foam blocks that we had as toys. He threw one of those at my head and it hurt. 

H: One of those hard foam blocks?

Judah: Yeah. 

H: Right. I remember those. How long were you in school together and did things get better since first grade or worse? 

Judah: Oh God, he left the summer right after the year it got really bad. I think what made it worse is that he was a popular kid. And I was not so popular. He was definitely one of the more popular kids. Mm-hmm. 

H: Was it the first time you had that kind of interaction? 

Judah: Yes, it was. 

H: The last time? 

Judah: It was not. 

Blair Singer is a TV writer and professor in his 50s.  He lives with Courtney.

Blair: I have so many people I don’t want to run into, but I will pick somebody that is not a person I have a tremendous amount of ire towards, but a lot of embarrassment.  

Seven or eight years ago, a guy I went to college with who I didn’t know well reached out to me, and said, “I saw you on the bus today and live really close by you. We should get coffee.” And my initial thought was, “I don’t really remember you well, but the thing that I do remember was that you were really boring, and I didn’t want to hang out with you in college. 

So, I didn’t want to see him. But then I felt guilty, and I said, “Yes, we live blocks from each other and you saw me on the bus and our kids go to the same school. We should definitely meet.” And that was seven or eight years ago, and I run into him probably once every three months, and whenever I see him, I walk the other way because I stood him up when we had made plans to have coffee, and I just can’t take it upon myself to look him in the eye. 

H: What did he do that was so boring in college, do you remember any specifics? 

Blair:  I think we did a play together, but I couldn’t have told you one thing about the guy. But here was the biggest problem: he was so eager to be my friend. We barely knew each other, and he was like, “We can talk about the old days. I’m kind of writing now and I know you’re a writer. We can talk about television.” And I was like, “Oh, no, please, no.” 

One time we were on the bus, this was probably five years ago, and he saw me before I could hide from him, and it was like the moment of recognition. Then he was about to say something, and I kind of nodded and got off the bus. It was not my stop, but it was close to my stop. I did the math very quickly in my head of “Would walking home from there be worse than talking to him until my stop?” I said to myself, “Yes, talking to him would be much worse.” So, I got off the bus. It was probably three stops early. I think if it had only been one stop, I would have probably stayed on, but it was several stops and I knew we’d have to talk about something of substance. 

H: So, what’s the thing of substance that you’re worried about talking with him about? 

Blair: You know, if I’m honest, just life. He wants to be friends and I just have this sense that I don’t. I also don’t want to have that conversation with him because I did literally stand him up. It was a long time ago, but I should apologize. 

H: Did you say you stood him up?

Blair: I stood him up.

H: Oh, so you said a time in a place and you didn’t show up. 

Blair: That’s right. I suggested a time and a place to sort of end that initial conversation. “Let’s meet on Thursday at 11 at the coffee shop on the corner.” This was a long time ago. I don’t think I consciously decided, “I’m not going.” I think I just forgot because I really didn’t want to go. That makes sense. He’s totally forgettable. Even to his children, I like to think.

Lori is in her 60s and is an artist. She lives in Park Slope.

Lori: So, there was one ex-boyfriend that I was really in love with in the 90s. We met at a bar in East Village. He was going through a divorce and had a kid. And it was probably not a great time to get involved. But I fell in love with him immediately. And he was this really intense, very smart creative guy. You know, I won’t say “nice” but interesting and fun to be with and always wanting to do creative things. He taught at Smith College, and I was a junior at the School of Visual Arts. But I was in my 30s and so he was my age, and we spent all our time together and it was great for a semester. Then he went away to Italy and we were supposed to continue this relationship, I was going to go and stay with him in Italy, and then he not very nicely dumped me. As soon as he got to Italy, I called to talk with him, and some woman answered the phone. And I confronted him, and he said, “Oh, yes, I’m now seeing other people, but I’d like to see you too. And I was like, “I don’t think so.” 

I bumped into him a few times in the city when he got back, and he wanted to get back together and also wanted to see other people and that just wasn’t going to happen for me. And I took many, many years to get over it. So now I just have some not so good feelings about it. 

He’s at some school in Long Island. I think it’s pretty safe to say I won’t see him very often. I won’t bump into him. I still kind of have good feelings for him and a lot of angry feelings. I checked in on him online maybe like a year ago to see what he was doing, where he’s teaching, is he married, you know, that kind of thing.  So, he’s pretty famous now, teaches theater, and does a lot of traveling, teaching at different schools. I think he comes to the city a lot to go to museums and see theater and so on. Because online you can always see him at gallery openings and things like that. I’m always afraid of running into him in a museum. 

H: Have there been other people you’ve avoided well? 

Lori: Everybody in the world! I avoid everybody. I never want to talk to anyone. I move all the time, and every time I move, I have new people to avoid. Whether it’s the guy in the cleaners that I had a fight with or my mom who was very difficult and unbearable to be around. I’m kind of a loner. All the people from high school— I hated everyone there. The kids there were not nice; they were horrible people. I had three friends there that I really liked a lot, and I had a boyfriend who, of course, I would avoid if I saw him now. 

H: You said you’ve gotten into neighborhood arguments. So, is there anyone particularly in Park Slope who you really don’t want to see? 

Lori: I have had some disagreements, or slightly stronger than that, with local clerks that I avoid now and do not go into their stores over stupid things. For example, one of them was making this necklace for me that he had already made for my niece. I didn’t like the way he made it. The stones were not the same as the ones he used for my niece’s necklace. I told him that and he said they were the exact same and then I said, “Why are you lying to me? I don’t appreciate that. Don’t be an asshole.” So, I got really angry and had a stupid fight with him, I was not as nice sounding as I am to you. So, now, of course, I avoid him. I don’t appreciate anyone who will lie to me about something so stupid. Just say, “Oh, I didn’t have the same stones. I couldn’t find them. This is what I have.” So, if I see him on the street or outside of the store, I just cross the street. 

H: I think it’s a very New York specific thing, the fact that you know, you have all these people who’ve you been running to that you don’t want to see. 

Lori: I don’t know about other people you might have talked to. They might be nicer than me. I don’t like anyone (laughing). I mean, the funny thing is if I’m in LA, I’m a much nicer person. I talked to everybody when I’m there because everybody in LA is so nice. 

Mary was a school principal. She is now in her 70s and lives in Brooklyn Heights.         

Mary: This is a very curious question you are asking me… 

H: Oh, why is it a very curious question? 

Mary: The person you’d least like to meet? It’s a very curious question, because I like people. I want to meet people and the person that I’d least like to meet, I wouldn’t bother with in the first place. 

H: It’s really the person you’d least like to run into in the city. Like randomly. I’m sure you have some people who fit that, but if you don’t, then that’s an interesting answer. 

Mary: No. For me it would be, and you’re not going to believe this one, Mother Cabrini. And why do I say that? Well, she was an Italian immigrant and look at what the hell we’re doing to immigrants in this country. She was asked by the Pope to take care of the poor immigrants in New York who were living in a place called Five Points which was a complete slum. Typhoid was going like crazy, women were being abused, and there was very little gainful employment. There was absolutely no education, and she was sent there to take care of this mission. I never knew much about her until I saw the film Cabrini. And I was so moved by that film, and the first thing I could think of when I saw the film was what in the name of God would she think now if she came to this country today, if she came to this city and saw what was being done to  people— immigrants who are brown and who happen to have an accent as my parents did, because I was first generation. If I met Mother Cabrini in the street, I’m Catholic, I would be absolutely humiliated because of what’s going on and being done to people in my city. I have a cleaning lady who has brown skin from Peru. I worry about her. This has put me over the edge. The failure that we actually are as Americans. Where’s the new Cabrini? Where is she? I mean, my church is doing something to help people, but I don’t think quite enough. But what about the average American?  What in the name of God are we doing when we see this happening? That’s how I took your question. 

H: All right, Mother Cabrini. I’m curious though, do you have any people in real life who you don’t want to run into, who you would talk about now? You can say no. 

Mary:  The people who did me wrong that I would avoid when I would see them on the street have all passed on from this world. They’ve gone. They all died young, but there were certain people in my life that when I saw them, I would run the other way. It was a romantic relationship that went bad or an active betrayal of some sort or both with one person. 

H: So, you don’t feel comfortable talking about this person in any way? 

Mary: No. I don’t. Let them die in peace. 

H: Right. I get that. Thank you for your answer and for all your help. 

Mary: I’m sure my answer of Mother Cabrini will not be useful to you because it’s a hypothetical answer and it’s a political statement. See if you can do is get somebody who is vengeful. But you’re not going to find it in me. I’m not vengeful.

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Henry Kaplan is a student at Wesleyan University and writes for the student newspaper, The Argus, which is published twice a week during the school year. This summer he is living in New York.