This is a story about being invisible, or about being so completely visible that no one can see you, like a lamp post at noon. Or, perhaps it’s a story about a blue suit or about rock and roll. But I doubt it.
Many years ago, I was in Boston on a business trip. I took a cab to my hotel after an afternoon meeting and was interested to see a great many young adults and elderly teens walking quickly in the same direction. They all seemed to be part of a counter-culture, non-conformist crowd since they wore indistinguishable jeans, shirts and hair styles.
The doorman at the hotel told me that they all were heading to a free rock concert that was about to start in an outdoor amphitheater just a few blocks away. So I followed the crowd, even though I was wearing attire that was completely conformist, which meant that it was strikingly unlike what everyone else wore.
Now, I should tell you that I love a crowd, the swirling energy, the common purpose, the comradery, the excitement and, no matter the peaceful intent, the possibility of mayhem. I was truly enjoying being part of that very large and enthusiastic crowd, heading with purpose toward a common destination.
We entered a park and began to walk up a small hill. It seemed apparent to me that the concert would be taking place just on the other side of the rise. All of a sudden, folks began appearing in droves at the top of the hill, running back towards me and my fellow concert goers. For a time, there was a jumble of people heading towards and rushing away from the top of the hill. (I later learned that the police had intervened just before the concert was to begin and cancelled it because the crowd was too large and they feared a disturbance. Good thinking on their part.)
I stood out from the crowd in a number of ways, primarily because I was wearing a light blue summer weight suit and Bass penny loafers (without the penny or those damn tassels). I also sported a white shirt and paisley tie and carried a thin leather portfolio.
I stood still and very passive, but with a keen eye on the activity. I watched the comings and goings, the fear, the exhilaration, and the chaos of the crowd moving like two schools of fish colliding, one on its way to study hall, the other heading to lunch. I loved being in the center of it all and yet at a great distance from the action.
As people ran towards me, they invariably veered away, careful not to bump me or even come too near. They viewed me with a combination of curiosity, a bit of fear, and for many, a sense of comfort that I was there. I began playing roles that the crowd seemed to define for me. I was either an administrator in the police department or an assistant district attorney, dispatched to ascertain whether the police or the crowd were overreacting or creating a civil disturbance.
I wore the summer weight blue suit like a coat of armor, distinguishing me as a non-participant in the drama unfolding before me. I was highly visible, standing out like a silent beacon amidst the swirling humanity. At the same time, I was invisible, not a player on the stage, not really able to affect the outcome. It was a remarkable experience and a truly energizing feeling.