NEW YORK — Characters abound in New York City. They’re everywhere you look and surely some places you don’t. The guy who plays a guitar and sings in the middle of Times Square in nothing but his underwear and a cowboy hat and boots. The guy who sells the world’s best pickup lines for $1 on the sidewalk. Howard Stern’s antics have a home in New York. The Big Apple is where Kramer and George from the TV show "Seinfeld" reside. David Letterman, he’s there too. During the weekend of the draft, New York was graced with yet another character. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Mike Williams.

OK, so Williams, the 6-6, 375-pound offensive tackle from Texas doesn’t play the guitar or tell jokes on a stage or make a grand entrance by tripping over himself. But he’s a character in his own right, and his magnetism is unmistakable. Consequently, there wasn’t a straight face in his vicinity over the draft weekend.

On the way to Ladder 3, a Manhattan fire station Williams and other draftees are set to visit as part of a whirlwind NFL tour on Friday, the day before the draft, Williams sets the mood right off the bat. Former University of Texas teammate Quentin Jammer dozes off momentarily while sitting upright in the backseat, and Williams tears into him. The groggy Jammer barely responds, but by then the whole back of the bus is laughing.

After checking a few messages on his cell phone, it’s time for Williams to entertain again. Some NFL executives along for the ride ask Williams what kind of vehicle he drives now that he’s about to be a millionaire. He tells them that he and Jammer have Cadillac Escalades. Williams then turns his attention to Peppers, who won’t surrender an answer as to what he’s driving.

"C’mon, man," Williams begs, chuckling to himself. "Julius is going No. 2 (in the draft), so he’s got to be driving a Bentley. I’ll bet he’s got a Bentley at home."

Williams is then asked about the biggest meal he’s ever had.

"Probably a 32-ounce steak," he says.

With all the fixins though, right?

"Oh yeah, a big potato and some spinach," he says, leaving you to believe there were probably a few more fixins involved.

"You ate that last night?" Jammer throws in?

"Nah, it was only 28 ounces last night, I think," Williams says.

When new footballs are passed around for them to sign for the firehouse, Williams remarks on how maybe only Peppers should sign them. That way they would carry more value. That draws chuckles from the back of the bus. It doesn’t take long to realize there’s never a dull moment with Williams.

When the bus reaches the firehouse, Williams mingles like a politician, smiling and shaking hands. Only I don’t know too many congressmen who can make this many people laugh.

"Any idea where you’re going?" Williams is asked by a fireman.

"I can’t tell you that. Talk to me tomorrow," he answers while reaching for the sports section from a nearby newspaper. He flips through the pages and begins to make a production over a mock draft inside, which predicts (albeit incorrectly) that he will go fifth out of the five players in New York for the draft. Williams begins introducing the players in attendance and where they’re headed, according to the paper, pausing after each proposed selection to offer his slanted opinion and make notice of the fact he is predicted last among his peers who are at the firehouse.

"That guy’s good," veteran firefighter Jack Fogerty says to no one in particular, as Williams moves on to tell a story and do impersonations. "I’m tellin’ ya, he’s good."

"They say he had his own radio show in college," a younger firefighter tells Fogarty under his breath.

"I could see that," Fogarty says. "Look at him."

Actually, Williams hosted his own Internet radio show on the University of Texas’ athletics Web site with a teammate. The show was immensely popular in Austin and proved that football players can have a lighter side and are able to deal with topics other than blitz protection and a counter sweep.

Before long, Williams is at it again. For much of the firehouse visit, Williams seems almost joined at the hip with Larry Gonzalez, the "unofficial spokesman" of Ladder 3. Somehow they sneak virtually unnoticed to the back of the station to try on some equipment. A few minutes later, Williams emerges with a wide smile, donning a fireman’s helmet. His smile, presence and jester’s disposition are very similar to that of Shaquille O’Neal in many ways, only Williams is more personable and spontaneous.

"Now that’s what you guys should be wearing out there (on the field)," Gonzalez says.

Before long, all four players have helmets and are posing with the men on shift.

With the visit winding to a close, Williams is busy making fun of Jammer and his bushy eyebrows.

"Yeah, but this guy’s about one biscuit away from bustin’ out of this suit," Jammer retorts, tapping Williams on the chest to the delight of the firefighters.

Williams laughs a hearty laugh, puts his arm around Jammer and squeezes, knowing his buddy hasn’t gotten the last word by a long shot.

A few seconds later, the bell rings at the station, signaling a call. Time for the guys at Ladder 3 to go to work. The lights go on, and the trucks pull out, pausing momentarily in the street so firefighters can jump on, sending the future NFL stars and everyone else scurrying across the street to get out of the way.

"Hey, Mike," one of the firemen announces over the loudspeaker on the truck. "Don’t worry about (the newspaper’s mock draft). You’re still our No. 1."

Williams laughs and waves. Comedy, it seems, can be contagious. Even when there’s a fire to be put out.

Later, at the media day at the ESPN Zone in Times Square, throngs of television, radio and print reporters swarmed the four players from the bus and David Carr, who already had been signed to a big contract with the Texans.

One of Williams’ favorite tactics involving media members, who are naturally drawn to him like bees to honey, involves taking the microphone from the reporter and turning the interview around. His facial contortions and the nature of his questions are too much for one young female TV reporter, and she breaks out in laughter again and again. Easy pickings for a comedic veteran like Williams.

Next up is a flashy, veteran TV reporter who is trying way too hard to move up on the Joe Cool media-guy scale. It’s clear early on that he is no match for the former Longhorn.

When Williams grabs for his microphone after a few passive, overly prepared questions, the reporter, envisioning a quality bit for the nightly news, lets Williams free.

"There are a lot of big-name guys around here who are awfully big," Williams says, leaning over the reporter and offering the only scowl we see from him all weekend. "Do they intimidate you at all?"

Laughter spreads through the crowd gathered around, and the reporter answers yes.

"So what other questions were you going to ask me?" Williams wonders aloud.

"Well, what are you going to do with all the money?" the reporter offers.

Williams turns to the camera and puts on a sincere, earnest face that I’m guessing is only seen on the football field.

"I ask you people, is it all about the money? It should be about what’s in here," he preaches, thumping his heart. "These people out here in New York City have heart."

Williams points to the hundreds passing on the streets outside and then turns back to the glowing reporter.

"What about you? Do you have heart?"

The reporter says, "You bet," and playfully wrestles the microphone back from Williams.

"See, I knew you couldn’t handle the heat with all the lights on you," Williams proclaims, shaking his head.

"I just enjoy watching him stay humble and do his thing," Williams’ brother, Kevin, says with Mike in the background still working the room full of reporters. "Mike’s always commanded attention. He just loves people. This is his day, and I’m enjoying it with him."

Kevin says Mike has always been "big, cuddly and goofy," and he has fond memories of seeing him tower above his classmates in line in preschool.

Later, Williams asks if he has a good-luck charm of any kind? "No, just my charm," he answers, further spoiling the reporters at his table.

Another media member asks how he’s able to reach that certain level of aggressiveness he needs on the field. Judging by his personality when he’s got a suit on, it seems like a viable question.

"You see, I’ve got a switch that I turn on and off when I need to," Williams answers.

He repositions himself in a bit of a weightlifting pose, and we see his game face for the second time.

"I can turn it on right now. Want me to turn it on right now?" he offers, leaning in over the reporter, eyebrow raised.

Unfortunately, the reporter passes.

As Williams emphatically talks about Charles Barkley’s candor and the ribs, burgers and steaks in his home state of Texas, his eyes widen and he slams his hands down on the table. A glass of water at the other end of the table nearly topples from the impact.

A reporter whom Williams had earlier nicknamed "the Serpent" meanders back over and interjects. He says he’s supposed to ask Williams about Jammer’s eyebrows.

"Oh, I’m not even going there," Williams says.

But we all knew we were going to get it out of him. Sure enough, as Jammer walks up to take his spot at the interview table, Williams shifts gears from football player to pure character.

"Hey, everybody," he says, taking a pair of mini tape recorders from the table and placing them on his forehead to exaggerate his college teammate’s bushy eyebrows. "I’m Quentin Jammer."

The table roars, and Jammer, laughing, asks why he had to go and do that.

"The Serpent made me do it," Williams reasons with a sly smile. "You saw what happened to Adam and Eve. Don’t bite the apple."

The night before the draft, Mike Williams, the character, takes it easy. He likes to sleep and just chill, which is exactly what he does the night before the biggest day of his life. With the family banquet for the five draftees complete, Williams retires to his room to relax, watch a movie and clear his head as some of his family and his agent hit the town for dinner. Of course, a room-service steak was in order, but that was about it in terms of disruptions.

When Williams emerges from the hotel with his family the day before the draft, he’s wearing a sharp gray suit.

Who picked it out? A girlfriend? His mother?

"Nah, man," he exclaims, his face carrying a look of disappointment with the question. "This is all me. See, I do have a little style."

His shoes back up that statement. They’re custom-made, part alligator, part ostrich.

"They kind of complement each other, don’t you think?" he says.

Moments before the five players and their families load on to a bus to head down to Madison Square Garden, ESPN producers attach a microphone to his jacket and willingly allow him to do a hilarious self-introduction in front of the cameras for a piece on the life of a rookie.

After it’s over, he rejoins his family and then remembers he’s still wearing the microphone.

"Raise your hand if you can hear me," he says into it, as his brother, sister-in-law and a few other relatives scan the sidewalk for his latest victim.

He repeats his request in a higher-pitched voice. Finally, a cameraman with earphones sorting power cords about 20 feet away arises, smiles and raises his hand. The Williams family laughs.

"There he is," Williams says.

The gregarious Williams is unusually quiet in the green room as the draft starts, and he can’t sit still, causing Jammer to rib him a bit.

But as soon as the Bills make him the fourth overall pick, he’s back to his old self, shaking hands with the Buffalo reps, handling a press conference, conducting a conference call with the Buffalo media, signing autographs, posing for more pictures and bringing out more laughter — this time from the bellies of two Houston radio show hosts.

As Williams is about to duck out of sight with his family, he hears cheers from a handful of Bills fans in the audience at the Garden. He points to them and nods.

Even after just two days, it’s understandable to think that even without football, Williams would still have people around him, and his charisma would always make him the center of attention. This is something Kevin, his older brother, is well aware of.

"He’s always gonna be Mike," Kevin says.

Which leads me to believe that Buffalo is one lucky town.