Tully's - Round Two

The Tully’s on 47th and the Ave is a veritable fishbowl. Whether you’re sitting in the corner table adjacent to the south window and looking directly into the eyes of whoever is coming down the hill as they pass (as I am) or sharing an intimate conversation with a friend at one of the tall tables nestled in an alcove next to a full length window, there is not much escaping eye contact with the individuals passing on the street, whether you’d like to or not.
I’ve come here many times, most of the time to study in a space outside of the social atmosphere of my house or the suffocating silence of the library. What I’ve found, however, is that even when I come here hoping for a sense of anonymity to envelop me (in order to be more or less productive), I run into, on average, around 4 people that I know well or am at least acquainted . Occasionally, this is fun, getting to catch up with a friend that I share a community with and exchanging general life updates. But there are times when the interactions are a bit more awkward. I’ll be walking by the table of someone that I know of but don’t necessarily know, on my way to order a mug of black vanilla tea, and then I’ll realize how rude it would be to simply return along the same course after I obtain my beverage without at least saying ‘hello’. I’ll order my drink distractedly as I conjure up something to talk about with the individual at the table I just passed and then return holding my mug in one hand and my solitary nugget of conversation in the other. They’ll take off their headphones long enough to greet me and exchange the standard “how’s your day going” chat, then I’ll sort of look at a table on the other side of the shop as if to say “Well, I guess I’d better go find my own table-island now”. We’ll then part company and I’ll feel pretty good about the fact that I successfully avoided being a completely cold and socially awkward individual in at least that one interaction.
I’ve noticed an odd sense of disappointment, or maybe just annoyance, when I run into situations like the one I’ve just described. I love people and I feel like I really come alive in conversation and relationship with others, but I’ve become conscious of the fact that the sense of life that relationships and interactions bring out of me only thrives when it is punctuated with periods of solitude (or at least anonymity). I think that is why I find myself, and others for that matter, drawn to places like Tully’s, where you can be surrounded, but still alone. Something in me craves that time. The awkward phenomenon I experience in those half-conversations with brief acquaintances at Tully’s is one way that I’ve discovered this need for rhythm in my life, a rhythm with a downbeat of time alone.