Encounters

I have what is considered, at least these days, a rather odd and quirky habit. I speak to complete strangers. I do this not out of necessity, but out of the enjoyment of meeting new people. At an earlier time in my life I was very shy. Later on, under certain circumstances which I won't describe here, I was forced to disregard my shyness and talk frequently with people I didn't know at all. I'm no longer in those circumstances, but I've retained the habit because very often it's quite enjoyable for me to spend even a few minutes speaking to someone, perhaps learning a little about that person, and then usually moving on. On a few occasions I've gained a new friend. This is a side effect, though for me a valuable one.

Some people have told me that I shouldn't engage in this behavior. For one reason or another it's considered rude, or abnormal, and might even be dangerous. I don't think those things are true, especially the part about the danger. Also, I'm not particularly interested in being "normal," whatever that is. I'm not normal, I've never been normal, and I don't want to be normal if that means giving up exchanging a few friendly words with someone and then going on my way.

Here are a few examples of what I'm talking about.

One day recently (just last week, in fact) I was in the waiting room of a doctor's office. After looking over the magazines I decided I wasn't interested in whether the United States would invade Afghanistan or not, whether or not Britney Spears was too racy in her recent Pepsi commercials, or various things about homes and gardens and whatnot.

I noticed that the woman a few seats away from mine was reading a book, so I didn't bother her. After a few moments, though, she put down her book and began looking around. Perhaps her doctor was late and she was wondering when she might get to experience the great enjoyment which only comes from being in the presence of a real physician. So, I said hello to her and asked her how she was doing. She told me that she was well. I asked her about the book she was reading, and she explained in some detail the various characters and plot elements of the story. She said something to the effect that the book was fairly good; it wasn't the best she'd ever read nor was it the worst. Then we talked about this and that, the weather, driving conditions, certain doctors, and things of that nature. At some point she mentioned that she had driven a long way to see this particular doctor, but it was worth it. I said something to the effect that I gathered she wasn't from here. It was then that she gave me the fisheye.

The fisheye is just what it sounds like. It's the sort of look that a fish might give you. Fish have eyes on the sides of their heads, as opposed to the front. When someone gives you the fisheye, that person is looking at you with only one eye, and with his or her head turned in such a way that it isn't pointed directly at you. I think that this particular woman gave me the fisheye because she suddenly became suspicious about my intentions. Perhaps she though I was gathering information about her in order to steal her identity, or something like that.

I attempted to rescue the conversation, but to no avail. The woman was now alert to my nefarious plans. She would no longer share any information with me; in fact, she muttered a few words and went back to reading her book.

On another recent occasion (also some time within the last few weeks), I was waiting at a train station, walking around, looking at the schedules and advertisements and so on. I noticed two young people, one a young man and the other a young woman, perhaps about twenty years of age or so, seated together and speaking in a language which I didn't know. The two young people were quite obviously Asian, but from which country I didn't know. I decided to introduce myself and attempt to make their acquaintance.

It turned out they were from China. I've never been to China, but have always been fascinated by it. I let them know this, and that some day I wanted to make some sort of visit to their country. They seemed quited surprised by this; it turned out that in the few months that they had spent in my country very few people had expressed any interest in their own. And so I asked them as many questions as I could summon to mind, and we talked about various things.

The young woman was more talkative than the young man. I think this was mainly because she was more proficient in English than he. Mostly she and I talked there on the train station, and she would relay my questions to him in what I think was Mandarin. Sometimes he would make a comment to her which she would then relay to me; at other times he would simply nod or smile. A few times he said something directly to me. I found his English quite easy to understand, though not as easy as hers.

During all this our train had arrived and we headed toward our respective destinations.

I learned a few things in that conversation. One thing I learned didn't surprise me at all, though it was somewhat disappointing. It turns out that when I go to dine at China Wok Cafe #47 and order my favorite dish, namely General Chang's Orange Chicken of Great Belligerence, I'm not eating anything that's at all like the things that people who live in China actually eat. As I said, this was disappointing to me. At some point in the future I would like at least to try something closer to authentic Chinese cuisine. If I never get to China, perhaps I'll find something more like real Chinese food somewhere else, possibly in New York or San Francisco.

This entire conversation lasted at most about fifteen minutes. At the end of it I had to exit the train at my destination, while they continued on. Before that happened we exchanged email addresses. Since then we've corresponded a bit. In the future I hope to see them again, or at the very least get to know them better through one form of communication or other.

There is no moral or lesson to these stories, or at least not one which I can generalize in such a way that it might apply to other people. They are simply accounts of encounters I've had with other people. One ended rather badly, the other ended rather well.

Hans Bricker

P.S. Don't order the fisheye; it's not very good.