DEAR ALIZARIN: Meeting People Practice Session #1

Taking your advice about how to meet more people, I made a point on my travels to Florida to talk to as many people as I could. First, I chatted with this woman in line in front of me. Well, she started, but I practiced by asking her if she was going home or leaving for vacation. It only took one question and then I just had to practice my attentive listening. Why can't it be this easy with men? Next, I talked to the older woman seated next to me on the plane. Her and her husband were in LA for the Rose Bowl and heading back home. I felt I did a noble job keeping up the conversation though we really didn't have much to say to each other. However, it was nice to make friends with those who might help me if the plane crashed.

Finally, hours after waking up at 5am, I arrive. I am not longer concerned with making you proud of my social progress. Instead, I am getting really annoyed with how pushy everyone is and how everyone thinks that standing with their shins to the baggage carousel will make their luggage appear more quickly. I have no desire to talk to anyone at this point. I get a spot where I can see the bags coming out on the other side of the carousel and engage in some light yoga stretching to release the tension in my neck.

"Mumble, mumble, mumble," I realize this guy is talking to me.
"Excuse me?" I say.
"We don't have much margin for erra," he repeats, pointing to the two centimeters between us and the rubber curtain that brushes away unclaimed luggage. I pause for a moment to decode the thick Boston accent. I realize he has skipped step #1 and jumped right into #2 and #3.
"Um, yeah, well, I guess you just have to wait for it come around again. Thankfully, I 'm not in a rush now," I lamely answer, totally taken off guard by this master of the 4 Simple Steps to Meeting People.

We discussed baggage pick-up woes and the commonness of the big black bag, ways to make a generic black bag stand out from the crowd. I longingly told of my bright blue suitcase, left home for this trip. He was as adept at #4 (listening) as #2 and #3.

Fulfilling his own prophesy, he misses his bag the first time around. Though, I didn't see much of an attempt to grab it. I spy my bag emerge. I have a red ribbon tied on mine. "Ah, smart," he says. He gets his bag and doesn't move. Then, he wait so he can get my bag off the carousel for me.

We started to make our way through the crowds still craning for a glimpse of their luggage. Not wanting to let him have the upperhand on the 4 Simple Steps. I stopped, turned and thanked him, adding, for dramatic flair, "In all my years of travel no one ever offered to help get my bag off the carousel for me." He modestly shrugged and we continued weaving through the crowd. Of course, this once, my mother was very prompt and right outside the door. As I sat in the car, I knew you would be as proud of my conversation adventures as I was satisfied that chivalry is not completely dead.