I am not helpful

I love to be so, however. I enjoy solving problems, and it is even more enjoyable if the solved problem belongs to a stranger. If you ask me a question, the thought is, "I'm glad you picked me, random stranger." If I don't have the answer you need, the thought is, "I wish I could help this lost, random stranger," while you are probably growing impatient, wishing you had asked the girl with I am a Native New Yorker tattooed across her cheek. Yes, that tattoo is in a disturbing place, but she would definitely be sure if the 2 train stopped at West 14th Street. Me?

I'm new.

But, I like to help.

So bare with me while I roll my eyes up to search my brain that I already know does not (but I sure do wish it did) contain the info you really need right now as the 2 train rolls into the station. After I've tried my best, I roll my eyes back to you with a grimace and sigh, "Shoot. I'm not sure, sorry." I am really sorry, because, of course, you look a little panicked, worried, flustered. You look a little pissed too, actually. Now, because the tattooed New Yorker has already barged on to the train with every other helpful person, you turn to the gigantic subway map in the middle of the platform...which you most likely do not know how to read. As I make my way onto the 2 train, I re-work how things could've played out, in my head. The thought is, "Just send them to the map." This isn't Philly with its 2 subway lines, or its neighborhoods distinguished by direction (N. Philly, S. Philly, W. Philly, NE Philly, SW Philly, you get it??). "Give yourself time to get acclimated." I like to help. But, right there, to that random stranger, I was a random jerk. I have good intentions, but they were quite self-indulgent. She probably missed the right train. I honestly don't know. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know...I'll try to say that more often. I promise you, you random future lost strangers in New York. I now admit that I am among the least helpful.

I'm new, I'm lost too, and I live in New York.