The police officer was slouching in the chair, his chin resting in his left hand and his legs stretched out. He lazily tapped his fingers against his cheek.

In his peripheral vision, he saw me approaching. He turned his head and caught sight of me in my white coat walking towards him in the hallway. He continued to tap his fingers against his face, though his gaze was fixed upon me.

In the few short months I have lived in New York, I have learned that one of the quickest ways to halt staring is to say something—anything. There’s nothing like saying “Hello!” that makes people nervously avert their eyes.

“Hi,” I said to him as I passed by.

He offered a slight nod of his head and, in full seriousness, he quietly responded, “What’s up, Doc?”

I kept walking and made no effort to suppress my smile. The back of the head does not betray facial expressions.