talk to strangers

Fresh out of a heartbreaking conversation, I had just chugged some rum and sat down to a basket of waffle fries when a clean-cut gentleman approached my table, asking for directions. While one of my friends hemmed and hawed, a woman at the next table over loudly directed him northward around a corner. He thanked her and set off, whereupon my table simultaneously agreed that those directions were totally bogus. Watching him disappear into the darkness, I felt a twinge of drunken conscience. And off I went, leaping gracefully off of my stool and sprinting after him like an inebriated gazelle. I found him standing woefully at an intersection a few blocks away, and, taking him under my wing, shepherded him back to his hotel.
He was a lovely dude, with a soft southern accent, and when he asked to hug me goodnight and then gave me one of those looooonnnnnng looks I felt sorely tempted to accept his offer of a fancy-suite sojourn. But alas! I had left my rum under the table in the restaurant, and was forced to bid him a fond adieu.
Next time, though…

All I did over spring break was talk to strangers. Sitting around the cluttered kitchen table at Sparkle Haus, drinking black coffee out of a brass-knuckle mug and talking talking talking. Evan passing a spliff and Bagheera with her knees curled up under her, or Sarah and Archie making tea in the kitchen.
I have learned that conversations with strangers can be much more helpful and clarifying than conversations with even the closest of friends.

Every time that I actively do this, it goes astonishingly well.
Case in point: last night, I went to a party and a guy approached me. “Hey, you were playing pool yesterday, right? I recognize your dress.”
“Yup,” I said. “That was me.”
“Want to smoke?”
“Yeah, ok.”
Turns out that this is a guy was a long-lost best friend of one of my friends from home – she gave me his number when I first came to college, but I never got up the nerve to call him.
Talk about worth it!