I walk the streets of Indy every day, whether it be from class to class or out for an evening. But this odd city isn’t what I’m used to. I’m from outside the city of Evansville, situatated firmly on Indiana’s foot. That’d make my small suburb part of the state’s gooey toe jam.

But being from the southern part of the north, I’m used to different people. Yes, I got to put up with the trailer junkies flying the rebel flag, and the people that ride the coal train for fun. But, there was also a much more social type. A “vibe,” if you will. You could walk up and down the street and meet all kinds of people who were quick to give you a “hello” as you whisked by them. People would wave as they pass each other on the city streets, and only rarely did it result in a wreck and very nasty lawsuit.

Walking down the streets of Indianapolis I get a much different feeling, and I don’t mean the typical feeling of imminent gang-rape that I get at night. The feeling of community isn’t quite there. Yeah, it’s a big city and I’m downtown. I will likely never, ever see the people I pass by again in my life.

Yet, I always make eye contact. The reactions are amazing. An old man cowers in fear and checks to make sure his wallet is secure. Yeah, I’m young, but when the hell did I get a tough face? If anything, a feeble old man is more likely to mug me. The blond woman in her argyle scarf just quickly glances away. Apparantly she was looking at me, but was afraid that I’d even look at her. Oh, and apparantly they make argyle scarves now.

But there’s always the few, the proud, that have no problem with being the least bit social. They look, they nod, they may even let out with a slight grunt that resembles a “hey.” Is it that hard to just be nice? You don’t have to go out of your way for someone.

But even I have my times where I want to walk with my sunglasses on, my hood up, and my iPod on full blast to seclude myself from the world. I guess we all have our moments.