Temporary spaces

I love small talk with strangers. Strangers who get that the conversation has a limited time for a few quips and details, that it has to be light and breezy, and that, most importantly, the conversation has entertainment value.

I just flew back and forth to Kentucky, and, oddly, I remember only one airport conversation, which is weird, because I find it is the second most fertile ground for small talk with strangers (in air being first). I’ve had some fabulous conversations about injection molded plastics, pharmaceutical sales, and various locales visited.

My trip to Kentucky started with me arriving too early at the airport, due to my fear of being late for flights. The first gent to sit next to me radiated a sour disposition, and—I swear—he wiggled. Like OCD wiggled. He had a newspaper and he worked the crossword puzzle. Had he been a man who radiated “airport talker,” I would have told him I’d help with the hard parts when he got stuck, which would have led to a fun crossword puzzle conversation. Nope. Not this freak-a-zoid. Instead, he stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the empty tarmac. There, he jiggled his pants. A lot. Remember the wiggling I just mentioned? He wiggled his pants. Personally, I think he was scratching his crotch. A lot. And I think he should see a doctor. Either a psychiatrist or a urologist, I don’t care which.

Fortunately, due to his standing, a woman sat next to me. She was infinitely more pleasant—she had the “good talker” vibe.

“What do you think of the new McDonald’s coffee?” I asked her.

“I don’t know yet; it’s too hot to drink and this is my first.”

I told her I thought it was OK, but still not my ideal cuppa joe.

Somehow we segued into antiques collecting.

“My friend goes to estate sales a lot, and he gets some great things, but I just don’t have the energy to keep track of when they’re happening,” I told her.

“Well, estate sales are nice, but I prefer the antique markets.”

I asked, “Do you have one you prefer?”

She said, “Oh, the one in [Samich]* is great. It’s not a flea market, it’s a real antique show, and you can get great things there.”

“Great! Thanks for the tip.” And then it was time to board. Perfect airport conversation.

This morning, I had a small talk with a stranger on the third best place for small talk, the bus.

“I wondered if anyone was going to take this seat next to me,” he said, gesturing at the crowded bus.

“Oh I wasn’t going to miss it!” I laughed. “You have to wait to see if anyone else wants it, then there’s that period of time where it’s OK to take it if no one else wants to sit.”

“Yeah, the unspoken bus etiquette,” he said.

“You know,” I said to him, “when my alarm went of this morning, I asked myself if it was Saturday, and I was so happy.”

He laughed, “Not quite. Although I can’t wait until this Saturday.”

I raised my eyebrow at him and tried to look engaging.

“I had to work through all last weekend,” he explained.

“Yeah, I took a second job to build my resume, and it’s wearing me out.”

Then we commenced the “what do you do?” part of the conversation.

We ended up talking about the nature of information and information consumption since I’m a librarian and he worked with data. Then, my stop, “Have a good day!”

“Enjoy your Saturday, ha hah!”

Perfect end to just a little small talk.

* I have no idea what word, city, or town she actually said to me.