Fernando Botero’s nudes are a regal sort of fat, bursting with pride and vigor, Rubenesque rather than rolling with folds. They’re plump but firm. Here’s a man, standing in the mall near my office at Columbus Circle.

He’s elegant, right? There’s all confidence, no shame in that face. He’s a serene and bold protector, a powerful peaceful agent from the land where indulgence never hurt anyone and guilt never lasts long.

It takes some time, but curiosity wins out, and you just have to touch his hand. Everyone does. Everyone and everything.

Maybe you want to take that hand tightly and be led on a sensual, delicious, possibly psychedelic journey. Maybe he’s a spirit guide, the giant indigenous ambassador from the land of pure gourmet pleasure. You don’t summon this guy by eating peyote buttons or drinking ayahuasca — but a Fool’s Gold Loaf and a bottle of Dom Perignon might do the trick.

The furry octopus, he’s ready to go:

Here’s the thing, though. As much as all creatures great and small may want to take his hand, New Yorkers haven’t been doing that so much. Have a look at the telltale absence of patina on the Man’s gleaming penis:

It’s amazing, isn’t it? All those hands, all those furtive grabs when nobody thinks anyone’s looking. Privacy is largely psychological in New York, after all. The only way to be alone is to be surrounded by busy people. I pass this thing all the time on my way to lunch, and I NEVER, ever see anyone grabbing this guy’s unit.

But they sure have, in the blink of an eye, in that quick and quiet space in between seconds. They’ve been polishing that thing to a high shine.

It’s amazing what brings people together. After 9/11, apparently the city got kinder, quieter. Everyone tried to get along. A bunch of muscular fat men from all over the US won a football game while wearing New York jerseys on Sunday, and the trains were packed with revelers this morning. I felt like a Jew on Christmas.

Terrorism, sports, and a giant metal penis — these are the things that bind us together, make us closer, make us kinder to our fellow New Yorkers and give us jaded urbanites a sense of giddy, childlike wonder.

Say what you want, but it’s a start at least. And again, the appeal is pretty much universal …