a boorish corner

I meet Jill to see Fool For Love, a new Broadway play in midtown.

We have a plan. Email on the day. And meet in our seats five minutes before the curtain rises. Even though I just saw Jill on Friday, we both have much to catch up on.

We leave the theater and walk toward the C train, stopping on the SE corner of 44th and 8th to talk.

Our conversation is soon interrupted by a woman rolling a big suitcase behind her.  "CAN'T YOU FIND A BETTER PLACE TO TALK?" she loudly barks at us.  We aren't exactly blocking the intersection, but still, we move a few feet.

Next a man comes strolling by.  He mumbles something rude about New Yorkers, or maybe it's about us. The specifics of what he is saying are unclear, but the gist is unkind.

We continue our conversation and then hear a woman screaming at her husband or boyfriend. She's standing on the corner, while he is midway through the crosswalk. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? COME BACK HERE? WE'RE NOT EVEN GOING THAT WAY." I feel embarrassed for him. He meekly returns to the sidewalk and the two seem to confer on where they are and where they should be. Really, he should just divorce or break-up with her.

It's a very aggressive corner. So when one of those rickshaw-like taxis slows in front of us and the driver asks if we want a ride, we instinctively shout NO; we've become like everyone around us. Our civility is gone.

I'm sure it's the corner; generally New Yorkers are very nice.