A stand up comic I know once had a joke. While I don't remember all of it the idea was if you never want anyone to talk to you go be one of those people on the sidewalk asking for money for Greenpeace.
He was right of course. And I hate walking past those people as I think most people do. You can see it in people they pass. Suddenly they look down and their pace quickens. Today I made eye contact and smiled. Bam, I was caught in their web. They stopped me in my tracks.
I joked that I just wanted to acknowledge them since nobody talks to them. I told them I wasn't going to give them money and even gave them the sob story of being a graduate student. Still found myself following his command to "step into my office" into a doorway protected from the rain. I tried to escape by offering them the 54 cents I had in my pocket. They turned it down.
For the next ten minutes he gave me the story of Greenpeace and their initiatives without pausing for a breath. The amount of numbers, facts, and references that tumbled out of his mouth were impressive. For a split second he almost had me, just before he said "so are you interested in supporting us, it's just 30 cents a day." I stuck with my initial position and declined so he started ramping up again with a new set of facts and figures. It was an amazing performance I have to admit. I stopped him by asking his female colleague if she was as good as he was. She said no and the only way I could escape was to promise to check out the Greenpeace website tonight because I hadn't in a while.
All three of us smiled as I walked away and I left them with their binders in the rain. I wouldn't be surprised if no one else talked to them all day.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Being Memorable
My friends and I are memorable. Our names rhyme and one of us is truly one of those characters that you rarely get to meet. The rest of us are along for the ride... usually. When we're together apparently we create an exponentially memorable effect.
It was a going away party for our characters on Friday so it was a night of tradition. Plowing around town to shake the hands of bartenders we have chatted with on a first name basis. If you do not know the name of at least one bartender in your town you either 1)never go out 2)are a selfish ass when you go out or 3) you really really should just be friendlier. These guys work hard and they like to be treated like real people, learn and remember their names.
Sitting there to see another bartender we knew, we quickly make friends with a guy who has just been hired. He looks familiar to us all so I ask. "Where else have you worked? You look familiar."
"I've worked all over," he replies, "but YOU would know me from _____" (I'll leave out the name to protect all involved from nothing that needs to be protected). It was a peculiar answer. We probe further and find out he hasn't worked there in a while so we wonder how he would remember us.
My friend heads to the bathroom so I ask our new friend, "Do you remember us or were you just guessing."
"Oh, no. I remember YOU."
"Was I wearing a blue dress?" I asked. I was thinking it must have been another going away party when, for a laugh, I wore one knockout dress. That night I ended up dancing around singing journey at the top of my lungs in that dress. Nothing embarrassing but wonderfully memorable!
"No, you were wearing that shirt and you guys were having fun."
So this guy, remembers my friends and me from a night out over a year ago. A night that isn't memorable to any of me for any reason, but apparently I was wearing the same shirt. When my friend returned we racked our brains for anything that would make us troublesome enough to remember. There is nothing. We are just nice, funny, and friendly enough that people remember us for a long time after we're gone.
It's a good life.
It was a going away party for our characters on Friday so it was a night of tradition. Plowing around town to shake the hands of bartenders we have chatted with on a first name basis. If you do not know the name of at least one bartender in your town you either 1)never go out 2)are a selfish ass when you go out or 3) you really really should just be friendlier. These guys work hard and they like to be treated like real people, learn and remember their names.
Sitting there to see another bartender we knew, we quickly make friends with a guy who has just been hired. He looks familiar to us all so I ask. "Where else have you worked? You look familiar."
"I've worked all over," he replies, "but YOU would know me from _____" (I'll leave out the name to protect all involved from nothing that needs to be protected). It was a peculiar answer. We probe further and find out he hasn't worked there in a while so we wonder how he would remember us.
My friend heads to the bathroom so I ask our new friend, "Do you remember us or were you just guessing."
"Oh, no. I remember YOU."
"Was I wearing a blue dress?" I asked. I was thinking it must have been another going away party when, for a laugh, I wore one knockout dress. That night I ended up dancing around singing journey at the top of my lungs in that dress. Nothing embarrassing but wonderfully memorable!
"No, you were wearing that shirt and you guys were having fun."
So this guy, remembers my friends and me from a night out over a year ago. A night that isn't memorable to any of me for any reason, but apparently I was wearing the same shirt. When my friend returned we racked our brains for anything that would make us troublesome enough to remember. There is nothing. We are just nice, funny, and friendly enough that people remember us for a long time after we're gone.
It's a good life.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The Real Olympic Event
STANDING IN LINE!!! Don't let anyone tell you the Olympics are about world peace, and magnificent sport. Really, they are about standing in line.
Over the course of the two week party that was the 2010 Vancouver Winter (Spring) Olympics I stood in line a lot!. I mean like 17 hours a lot. And truth be told, perhaps about 3 or 4 of those hours was really worth it. But all this standing in line did something to this usually polite but not very friendly city. It made strangers chatty. Standing in line became the event in itself. Ironically only the locals seemed to be standing in line. I suppose because if you came for the Olympics you spent your time at the events, not standing in line for the free stuff. I met people from all over the lower mainland, but not a single visitor. And I have to say, we made a party of standing in line.
One woman offered me career advice, and I shared observations about the epic event with many. And then there was the bond that formed between 4 of us after an hour and a half of verbal wondering if we would actually get in. Conversation that hour was all about where in line we were and if we were past the 120 person cut off. Would we get in, would they tell us if we wouldn't so we could STOP waiting in line? Should we keep waiting until the official rejection? I think all of us knew deep down we wouldn't make it in. It was a true bond and we waited patiently- we had joined and bonded as a group, we needed to be rejected as a group.
That is until I abandoned them. Yes, I did the count, checked the logic again and decided to leave the line. The sighs and grown from my line buddies will be something I will remember. They tried to convince me to stay. As a member of that sinking ship I jumped, and abandoned them to save myself. Selfish probably, but logical. They felt betrayed. I wonder what would have happened if I had stuck around for our united rejection. I wouldn't have been surprised if we all went to lunch together, but instead I will just have the memory of making friends and leaving them, standing in line.
Over the course of the two week party that was the 2010 Vancouver Winter (Spring) Olympics I stood in line a lot!. I mean like 17 hours a lot. And truth be told, perhaps about 3 or 4 of those hours was really worth it. But all this standing in line did something to this usually polite but not very friendly city. It made strangers chatty. Standing in line became the event in itself. Ironically only the locals seemed to be standing in line. I suppose because if you came for the Olympics you spent your time at the events, not standing in line for the free stuff. I met people from all over the lower mainland, but not a single visitor. And I have to say, we made a party of standing in line.
One woman offered me career advice, and I shared observations about the epic event with many. And then there was the bond that formed between 4 of us after an hour and a half of verbal wondering if we would actually get in. Conversation that hour was all about where in line we were and if we were past the 120 person cut off. Would we get in, would they tell us if we wouldn't so we could STOP waiting in line? Should we keep waiting until the official rejection? I think all of us knew deep down we wouldn't make it in. It was a true bond and we waited patiently- we had joined and bonded as a group, we needed to be rejected as a group.
That is until I abandoned them. Yes, I did the count, checked the logic again and decided to leave the line. The sighs and grown from my line buddies will be something I will remember. They tried to convince me to stay. As a member of that sinking ship I jumped, and abandoned them to save myself. Selfish probably, but logical. They felt betrayed. I wonder what would have happened if I had stuck around for our united rejection. I wouldn't have been surprised if we all went to lunch together, but instead I will just have the memory of making friends and leaving them, standing in line.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Airports
I think you could pretty much sum up humanity based on what you see while people watching in an airport. Surprisingly, for someone who often meets people, I rarely meet people traveling. There's something about airports, planes, and being forced to sit next to an unknown person for hours that puts us in our own cocoons.
While they are lonely, airports are also a display of all the connections that remind us what life is about. Everyone here has either just seen something, or is going to see something. They're either sad to be departing people or, like that couple just over there, they greet their life partners with a hug and a long awaited kiss. Walking off the plane, it's all about making the phone call to your awaiting ride. Or if you're stuck waiting like me, you can catch up on video calls over the internet like the man sitting next to me right now.
And always, if you think you have a horror story there's someone who's worse off. A man across from me had to leave security to pick up a package for his company (which is why they diverted him from LA to Seattle before heading back across the Pacific) and the line for security was so long he missed his flight. Right now he's stuck. There is no other flight til 2pm tomorrow and is just waiting, trying to figure out his options. I don't know why that other man had to be In Boise in the morning but shouting at the top of your lungs at the desk agent won't change the dangerous foggy conditions two states away. I'm sorry the airlines' priorities seem to get you there alive over risking getting you there on time. Airports do bring out the worst in people.
And they reveal our capacity to fall into line. Without going into the dangers and fear that haunts today's air travel, I just know if I want to get somewhere I am going to have to take of my shoes. So they have it all: love, sadness, anger, anticipation, satisfaction, and hold all this life temporarily in a holding pattern.
Right now, I have a gigantic bike box, a clue to my adventure on the other end. I am waiting for someone to ask me about it. So far, only a 4 year old has spoken up. However, he didn't accept my answer and proceeded to grill me with questions about why I would want a bike in a box, how did the bike fit in the big box, and why would I ever want to ride my bike in California and take it there in a box no less!
But I digress. Airports are life hit with the pause button. Life happens outside of them and in between the flights we take, and yet the emotional range of life itself is seen on on the rainbow of faces that walk between it's gates. It's cool to see.
Awww... there goes a puppy!
While they are lonely, airports are also a display of all the connections that remind us what life is about. Everyone here has either just seen something, or is going to see something. They're either sad to be departing people or, like that couple just over there, they greet their life partners with a hug and a long awaited kiss. Walking off the plane, it's all about making the phone call to your awaiting ride. Or if you're stuck waiting like me, you can catch up on video calls over the internet like the man sitting next to me right now.
And always, if you think you have a horror story there's someone who's worse off. A man across from me had to leave security to pick up a package for his company (which is why they diverted him from LA to Seattle before heading back across the Pacific) and the line for security was so long he missed his flight. Right now he's stuck. There is no other flight til 2pm tomorrow and is just waiting, trying to figure out his options. I don't know why that other man had to be In Boise in the morning but shouting at the top of your lungs at the desk agent won't change the dangerous foggy conditions two states away. I'm sorry the airlines' priorities seem to get you there alive over risking getting you there on time. Airports do bring out the worst in people.
And they reveal our capacity to fall into line. Without going into the dangers and fear that haunts today's air travel, I just know if I want to get somewhere I am going to have to take of my shoes. So they have it all: love, sadness, anger, anticipation, satisfaction, and hold all this life temporarily in a holding pattern.
Right now, I have a gigantic bike box, a clue to my adventure on the other end. I am waiting for someone to ask me about it. So far, only a 4 year old has spoken up. However, he didn't accept my answer and proceeded to grill me with questions about why I would want a bike in a box, how did the bike fit in the big box, and why would I ever want to ride my bike in California and take it there in a box no less!
But I digress. Airports are life hit with the pause button. Life happens outside of them and in between the flights we take, and yet the emotional range of life itself is seen on on the rainbow of faces that walk between it's gates. It's cool to see.
Awww... there goes a puppy!
Friday, December 11, 2009
The Joy of Strangers
I was hanging out at a coffee shop with some friends this evening. Now this particular coffee shop has some live music and serves beer in the evening and it was time for the next round among my friends and I. So I headed down to buy the next round. Walking down the stairs I saw this elaborate spread of rice and goodies on the counter. It looked like it was set up for a group in the corner.
Well, before I could make my way to the register to place a request for a few more pints I was waved over by a fun friendly gentleman who shoved a plate in my hand and orders me to dive in. Did I look like a starving student? Or maybe he was just happy to share since they had too much. I thanked him and asked what it was for while I daintily took some rice.
It's funny how asking a question like that gives you an entire back story and you suddenly know not just his connection but the connections among an entire group. His girlfriend, who was bustling over hotplates and piles of cakes at the time, knew Joy, a Korean woman who worked at the coffee shop. She, at the time was also uncovering her homemade korean BBQ. They knew the songstress who had been strumming the guitar for all our enjoyment for the last hour, so they had set this up for their friends.
It smelled delicious. As he explained how this bounty of food came to appeare before me, his girlfriend swiped my plate away and began to load it up with samples of each dish. Apparently I needed a lot more rice. Joy took my beer order and filled my pints as my pile of food on a tiny desert plate grew higher and higher. Paying for the beer I wished them all well and headed upstairs with an evil grin on my face, knowing I would be the envy of my friends.
I was, but it didn't last long. Only a few glares and a couple of fantastic bites later Joy arrived with several plates piled equally high, offering treats for all to indulge in. She admited to us, Korean BBQ was her specialty. I have to agree. She's pretty special!
Well, before I could make my way to the register to place a request for a few more pints I was waved over by a fun friendly gentleman who shoved a plate in my hand and orders me to dive in. Did I look like a starving student? Or maybe he was just happy to share since they had too much. I thanked him and asked what it was for while I daintily took some rice.
It's funny how asking a question like that gives you an entire back story and you suddenly know not just his connection but the connections among an entire group. His girlfriend, who was bustling over hotplates and piles of cakes at the time, knew Joy, a Korean woman who worked at the coffee shop. She, at the time was also uncovering her homemade korean BBQ. They knew the songstress who had been strumming the guitar for all our enjoyment for the last hour, so they had set this up for their friends.
It smelled delicious. As he explained how this bounty of food came to appeare before me, his girlfriend swiped my plate away and began to load it up with samples of each dish. Apparently I needed a lot more rice. Joy took my beer order and filled my pints as my pile of food on a tiny desert plate grew higher and higher. Paying for the beer I wished them all well and headed upstairs with an evil grin on my face, knowing I would be the envy of my friends.
I was, but it didn't last long. Only a few glares and a couple of fantastic bites later Joy arrived with several plates piled equally high, offering treats for all to indulge in. She admited to us, Korean BBQ was her specialty. I have to agree. She's pretty special!
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
It was shite!
I didn't think I would meet anyone today. I just had to go to the office for a meeting and I am normally not very social on the bus. So the plan was to stay home, hop on the bus, hit the meeting, and head back home.
Getting on the bus however, this guy in front of me asked the bus driver for directions, mumbling something about a museum. His accent was really thick and he didn't quite know where he wanted to go so I tried to interpret, injecting with "anthropology museum?"
That wasn't it. All I got for a response was a confused expression and look towards his friend who had already sat down. On cue his friend started digging around in his pocked. Sitting near them I wondered if they were tourists or just new. I mean they fit right in with vancouver, plastering the brand northface and a bright blue tooke. After searching every pocket (north face jackets really come with way to many pockets), he finally found the paper with a map that required a little deciphering.
It turned out they didn't need to get on the bus at all, but fortunately the next stop was close enough that it didn't really affect them. I gave them easy directions that would give them a nice walk along the beach and let them explore a bit.
"Is it worth it?" He asked and I realized they were actually speaking English the whole time, but their Scottish brood was so thick they barely understood me and me them! I had honestly never been to that museum, but told them the walk would provide amazing views.
As they got off, the bus driver, who overheard our conversation, wished them luck and warned them the museum was small. He suggested the Anthropology museum but they had already stepped off the bus. Heading to my meeting, I wondered if I had directed them wrong and should have sent them to the anthropology museum instead.
Now usually, in these moments you never find out what happens. You wish your stranger well and never think about again. Except perhaps, like myself spend a moment wondering if you had given the wrong advice or confusing directions.
I went to my meeting an it went well. Walking home proud of myself after picking up a few groceries, I passed the bus stop across the street from where I met the two men. I recognized a certain blue tooke. To my amazement there were the two northface jackets. "How was the museum?" I asked walking up to the two men waiting for the bus once again.
"Small." The thicker accented bloke said. "It was shite!" His friend added with a shrug. So my guidance was indeed wrong. I felt bad, but they seemed to be having a nice time in Vancouver. They told me they come from a village in Scotland of only 1000 people and were experiencing some pretty extreme shock just from the size of Vancouver, which is not what I would call an especially large city. "But we did like Stanley park" and that blue tooke advertised grouse mountain so they seemed to be enjoying their adventure.
The two Scots back home on Thursday. I hope tomorrow provides them a better adventure than today's small museums.
Getting on the bus however, this guy in front of me asked the bus driver for directions, mumbling something about a museum. His accent was really thick and he didn't quite know where he wanted to go so I tried to interpret, injecting with "anthropology museum?"
That wasn't it. All I got for a response was a confused expression and look towards his friend who had already sat down. On cue his friend started digging around in his pocked. Sitting near them I wondered if they were tourists or just new. I mean they fit right in with vancouver, plastering the brand northface and a bright blue tooke. After searching every pocket (north face jackets really come with way to many pockets), he finally found the paper with a map that required a little deciphering.
It turned out they didn't need to get on the bus at all, but fortunately the next stop was close enough that it didn't really affect them. I gave them easy directions that would give them a nice walk along the beach and let them explore a bit.
"Is it worth it?" He asked and I realized they were actually speaking English the whole time, but their Scottish brood was so thick they barely understood me and me them! I had honestly never been to that museum, but told them the walk would provide amazing views.
As they got off, the bus driver, who overheard our conversation, wished them luck and warned them the museum was small. He suggested the Anthropology museum but they had already stepped off the bus. Heading to my meeting, I wondered if I had directed them wrong and should have sent them to the anthropology museum instead.
Now usually, in these moments you never find out what happens. You wish your stranger well and never think about again. Except perhaps, like myself spend a moment wondering if you had given the wrong advice or confusing directions.
I went to my meeting an it went well. Walking home proud of myself after picking up a few groceries, I passed the bus stop across the street from where I met the two men. I recognized a certain blue tooke. To my amazement there were the two northface jackets. "How was the museum?" I asked walking up to the two men waiting for the bus once again.
"Small." The thicker accented bloke said. "It was shite!" His friend added with a shrug. So my guidance was indeed wrong. I felt bad, but they seemed to be having a nice time in Vancouver. They told me they come from a village in Scotland of only 1000 people and were experiencing some pretty extreme shock just from the size of Vancouver, which is not what I would call an especially large city. "But we did like Stanley park" and that blue tooke advertised grouse mountain so they seemed to be enjoying their adventure.
The two Scots back home on Thursday. I hope tomorrow provides them a better adventure than today's small museums.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Did you see the eagles?
I run. No, I'm not a runner, but I am one of those people who match sneakers with spandex on and hit the pavement. I have zero gift for it and I've been told I really look quite miserable while doing it. Now I don't love it, but I enjoy it. I am just not a natural.
Today during my run in a local park, I plodded along with ACDC blasting through my Ipod with I'll admit, probably one of those horribly miserable looks plastered on my face. Passing a man, I noticed he seemed to be trying to say something to me over Highway to Hell pumping in my ears. Out popped the earphones and I stopped.
The jolly elderly man, who in his bright red winter coat and hat was Santa Clause without the beard, pointed to the top of a totem pole in the center of the park. "Did you see the eagles up there?"
Sure enough, I looked and there were 2 bald eagles perched on the top, which according to Santa was very rare to see. He also pointed behind us to another, younger eagle who wasn't quite bald yet, getting harassed by 3 crows in a tree. Crows are mean!
Santa and I shared a moment, watching the birds before I wished him an good day. Smiling now I picked up the pace again, but I'll have to blame him for how slow my average pace became for today's workout. Not because I stopped to chat, but because he reminded me to look around and take in those sites we forget to see.
Suddenly, for the rest of my run I kept seeing birds! Not Hitchcock's version, more like a Disney sing along. They were everywhere! In a bush, souring over head, on the water, sitting on a frozen swimming pool and fighting over a twig. Everything from the eagles to crows, sparrows and seagulls. And thanks to Santa and his birds, I'm sure I no longer looked miserable.
Today during my run in a local park, I plodded along with ACDC blasting through my Ipod with I'll admit, probably one of those horribly miserable looks plastered on my face. Passing a man, I noticed he seemed to be trying to say something to me over Highway to Hell pumping in my ears. Out popped the earphones and I stopped.
The jolly elderly man, who in his bright red winter coat and hat was Santa Clause without the beard, pointed to the top of a totem pole in the center of the park. "Did you see the eagles up there?"
Sure enough, I looked and there were 2 bald eagles perched on the top, which according to Santa was very rare to see. He also pointed behind us to another, younger eagle who wasn't quite bald yet, getting harassed by 3 crows in a tree. Crows are mean!
Santa and I shared a moment, watching the birds before I wished him an good day. Smiling now I picked up the pace again, but I'll have to blame him for how slow my average pace became for today's workout. Not because I stopped to chat, but because he reminded me to look around and take in those sites we forget to see.
Suddenly, for the rest of my run I kept seeing birds! Not Hitchcock's version, more like a Disney sing along. They were everywhere! In a bush, souring over head, on the water, sitting on a frozen swimming pool and fighting over a twig. Everything from the eagles to crows, sparrows and seagulls. And thanks to Santa and his birds, I'm sure I no longer looked miserable.
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