Judi 411: My life as an information booth

How did I become Judi 411?

In short, I could be standing in Times Square in a a panda suit on New Year's Eve, and someone would choose me from the cast of thousands and ask for directions to Central Park.

Or what time it is.

Or if I know who will be performing next.

The phenomenon was first dubbed “Nurse’s Face” by my friend Lucia, who observed that no matter where we were, people picked me out of a crowd to ask for help in some way, shape, or form. She said it was because I have a kind face, the kind a nurse would have.

“Nurse Ratched?”

“No, silly, a nice nurse!”

No matter how I try to disguise myself, Jackie O sunglasses, hats, hoodies, — believe me, I’ve tried! —  I am approached by strangers far and wide for assistance. 

I could have earphones on, face buried in “The Anarchist’s Cookbook” and still I get asked things like “do you know how to get to the airport from here?”  or “Do you know where the Baptist Church is?”

And here’s the kicker: I almost always know the answer, and end up providing it, because I don’t like to be rude.  

Well, and these people won’t leave me alone if I was.

I am also often mistaken for the person in charge no matter where I go.  I worked as a paralegal for many years, and more often than not, I was mistaken for the attorney when clients came in for appointments.  Some friends have insisted I am an attorney.  I have also been mistaken for a doctor, an engineer, and a professor, while at the hospital (visiting), city hall (getting a parking pass), and grad school (when I was a student).

I was traveling on a flight recently, and as I was storing my bag in the overhead bin, someone asked me “Is this flight full?”

“I am not with the crew.”

“Are you sure?”

See? People really want to believe I am in charge.

Last summer, I was on the MBTA Blue Line and as the door opened, I heard someone ask “does this train go to the airport?”

The person asking was looking directly at me.  I was not the sole occupant of the train car.  There were about 30 people there, including my own family and friends, but no, she chose me.

“Sure does!  All aboard!”

I find the Judi 411 phenomenon baffling, the people around me find it amusing.  What people don’t know is that my dream in life is to live hiding in plain sight, the way Whitey Bulger did for years before his capture. 

Alas, I will not enjoy anonymity in this lifetime.

A few weeks ago, I was walking to the train in Davis Square in Somerville during rush hour and a woman approached me to ask how to get to Tufts University.

“I will tell you if you answer me one question.”

“Sure.”

Dramatically sweeping my arm to show her the vast number of humans amongst us, I asked “why, out of all these people on the street, did you approach me?”

“You look like you know what’s going on.  You look knowledgeable.”

“But I have these big glasses on, how can you see my face?”

“It’s how you carry yourself.  You are confident.”

“Two blocks up the street on the left is the beginning of campus.  Have a nice day.”

I evidently also look knowledgeable when I am breastfeeding an infant in Faneuil Hall, because the most outrageous example of The Judi 411 Phenomenon revolves around me in precisely that position.

I was en route to a dentist appointment in downtown Boston, and had my infant daughter, Zoe, with me.  Prior to her debut as the poster child for “Extreme Separation Anxiety,” (a tale I will save for another day) I was able to bring Zoe along to dental cleanings thanks to the office manager, Lisa, who would watch her for me.  With about 20 minutes to spare, Zoe had begun to fuss, so I parked my rear on a bench outside Faneuil Hall and began my Ninja moves as a discreet breastfeeder.

And before anyone starts with “you should have no shame in breastfeeding a baby in public!”: I know.  Again, I don’t want attention from strangers.  Re-read above if you are unclear on this point.

Anyway…

About 5 minutes into feeding, a gentleman approached and started to get into my personal space.  He was holding a phone to his ear, and just as we were about to butt foreheads I said, “Can I help you?” in my most irritated voice.

He stepped back, extended his arm with the phone in it, which we all know as the universal signal for, “Please talk to them.”

The signature element of Judi 411 is that I am completely unfazed by weirdness.  I took the phone.

“Um, hello?”

“Hi, yes, the man who gave you the phone found it. It’s mine.  He doesn’t speak any English and I need to get my phone.”

Of course you do.

“Okay, well he’s outside Faneuil Hall.  He’s a black male about 5 foot 9, wearing a blue shirt and jeans.”

“Where’s Faneuil Hall?”

Of course you are a tourist.  Of course.

“Near the Government Center T stop.”

“We are at Ashmont and we don’t know the city.”

Of course I have to give you directions.

“Okay, once you get to Government Center, go upstairs and he will be standing there with your phone.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I will tell him.”

“But he only speaks French.”

“Today is your lucky day.  So do I.”

So yes, I gave the man directions in French to go to Government Center and stand there with the phone over his head.

I’m going to Faneuil Hall today.  Who knows what’s in store for me?

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