Loners and Vacation

I'm visiting a relatively large city, and by that I mean a few million people in the metro area. It's my second time here when I was not just passing through on the way to "somewhere else." I always feel a bit lost in a new location, though I very much enjoy exploring and discovering what makes a place truly special. Large or small, each is unique—public landmarks and hidden secrets. Last summer, I visited many of the former. This year, I'm still gathering my bearings. I arrived yesterday.

I've never been fearful of wandering most anywhere. I have family, friends, and acquaintances who become anxious in neighborhoods of our town of 100,000 during broad daylight. In contrast, I have walked Manhattan in the middle of the night and never experienced even mild concern. I am not sure what leads to those differences in reaction.

If anything, I should be the opposite. I grew up in rural America. The common wisdom here is that rural people fear the city, and vice-versa: stereotypical country folk are terrified of urban crime and gang violence, and city folk are terrified of inbred hillbillies and the klan. Gotham versus Deliverance.

My upbringing should be a reinforcer. My parents are fearful people. My maternal grandmother was terrified of life in general, and did her best to pass that on to us. I'm confident she was physically abused, likely in her upbringing and again in her marriage to my grandfather, who by all accounts was an angry man until he gave up booze and found Jesus. I only ever knew the latter version.

Anyway, I guess I didn't internalize grandma's attempts at inception.

Or perhaps more accurately, her instillations didn't stick across the full spectrum of existence. I clearly have a fear of loss and emotional pain, which is undoubtedly why I am avoidant of meaningful relationships—what I would think of as "entanglements." But I don't fear physical harm from others. In fact, I've placed myself in innumerable situations most reasonable people would deem idiotic. I didn't care. I still don't, even after more than half a century.

I'm visiting the city for a large event. There will probably be 50,000 in attendance when all is said and done.

I'm alone.

That's a consequence of self-isolating. Keeping everyone at arm's length means spending four days on holiday without companionship. It means sitting in a crowd of 50,000 people and talking or connecting with no one. Not in any meaningful way, at least.

And that's something with which I've wrestled for the better part of two decades now. I sometimes wish I had meaningful connections with others, but I have no idea where to begin. The Experts™ say relationships develop through mutual interests and experiences, so you intentionally place yourself into circumstances where you will meet people...like you.

I have never observed this to play out in practice, however. Where? Certainly not church for the likes of me, not anymore. I am in the gym three or four times per week; everyone there is wearing headphones and firmly in their own little worlds. Clubs? (Not night clubs, but activities where participants pursue a hobby or other interest.) Do clubs even exist anymore in 2025? If so, I have no idea what they are or where I would find them.

I'm not a shut-in. I will be at the aforementioned event for the next three days, for hours and hours each day. I will be surrounded by tens of thousands of people who share common interests. But they are all there with friends and family. And even if they are not, like me, what's the appropriate action: walk up to total strangers from all across the nation and strike up a conversation? I'm fairly certain the kids these days call that sort of behavior "sus." The millennials would label me a "creeper."

So, what's the answer, other than to be alone in a crowd of 50,000 people?