'A medium English breakfast to go, please.'
The barista smiled, took his cash and set about making his order, not that it would take long. If the busy locals and businessmen behind him had paid attention, perhaps they would have appreciated the quick order, as it meant they would be closer to carrying on with their busy lives.
The thrumming white noise of the cafe wrapped around the blonde foreigner, allowing him to briefly people watch while he waited. As it was lunchtime, most were sat at tables eating and talking, some working, whilst others were just impatiently grabbing food and drink to go. Just another day in the big apple. The blonde heard his name called out by the barista, and he took it and headed to another table to add milk before stepping out into a wall of sound and heat that never quite managed to stay outside. Arthur was instantly swept into a current of people heading in the same direction as him, all moving quickly and with purpose, with a destination in mind. He had learned how to navigate similar currents in London and on various business trips to Tokyo, so this was no problem.
As he walked, Arthur tried to decide where he wanted to go. He was in New York on a business trip, and had already been there before, and so he had seen all of the usual tourist attractions. He had even gone drinking in one of New York's versions of an Irish pub with some of his colleagues, which had been a...memorable experience. Arthur quickly sidestepped to avoid a yelling cyclist, and stopped at the headlights.
The crowd of people on both sides were tightly packed, with everyone yelling loudly to each other or speaking in monotone voices down a mobile, and only Arthur seemed to be casually looking for a direction to his unknown destination. He looked up At the street sign above him for inspiration, but it didn't help. Instead he decided to follow this human river and let it lead him anywhere; if he got lost he could always call one of his colleagues.
The green light sprang to life, as did the two opposing walls of people who hadn't jaywalked. As Arthur walked, he listened. Around him there was music and laughter, hurried footsteps and angry honks. A woman ran past him breathlessly yelling over the din, something about a manuscript. Another guy walked past with headphones pounding a beat that seemed impossible to keep up with. Some school kids were eating ice cream and chatting. So much life and interest surrounded him, and it was infectious.
When Arthur snapped out of it, he realised that he had stumbled across Times Square. There were the usual tourists and locals rushing around and taking pictures, some tourist parasites (as Arthur called them) trying to sell their overpriced wares. In the midst of the lights and the noise and the people, Arthur could make out music. Across the square, he could just make out flashes of white and brown mixed with snatches of guitar chords. He walked closer, curious to see what was going on. He could make out a figure holding a guitar, but when he got a closer look he blushed.
The figure turned out to be a young man, and a handsome one at that, even if his attire (or lack of it) seemed a tad ridiculous. He wore a white cowboy hat and matching boots and briefs, armed against the world only with a voice and a guitar, playing Sweet Home Alabama like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. A huge smile adorned his face, blue eyes shining as he gazed around at passers by. His body unconsciously moved along with the music, and provided a wonderful view for those who looked. Tanned muscular skin and strong hands contrasted against the white of his smile and the blue of his eyes, speaking of physical labour in a much warmer part of the country. A sign at his feet said 'you don't have to pay me, I'm just here to have fun!' A lot of people, particularly girls, who had nowhere to be watched the show appreciatively.
Once the cowboy had finished, he received some moderate applause from his ragtag audience, with tourists and blushing young ladies requesting to have a picture with him, all of which he accepted happily, smiling and laughing all the time. People dropped money into his guitar case and left, but some stayed or joined the crowd. After taking a quick gulp of water, the stranger began to sing again, clearly loving every second. He gazed at his interested audience and, for a moment, Arthur could've sworn that he had caught the stranger's eye.
A while later, to the slight disappointment of Arthur, the cowboy announced that he had to go home, but had enjoyed playing for everyone. The satisfied audience applauded once more and disbanded, the common purpose that had bound them to that place had vanished, and thus they carried on with their lives. Arthur too, told himself that he should leave, to get an early night before he flew home the next morning. However, although his feet lead him in one direction, his head couldn't stop itself from turning back for one last look. The cowboy was crouched over his battered guitar case, closing it up and patting it before picking it up.
As he stood, the stranger ruffled his hair and turned too, meeting the foreigner's gaze. They held it, and smiled at each other, one wide and bright, the other small and awkwardly shy. Then they both turned and walked away, back to their daily lives, each with a grin on his face.