[the big red button]

I felt like a greatly distorted version of "The Crocodile Hunter", hunting for heads and new friends instead of overgrown lizards like Steven Irwin. Camera in one hand, iPad in the other, I walked outside the Union searching for a stranger. 

I found him sitting on a park bench, quietly drinking his iced black coffee and watching as the world went on around him. With the exception of the statues, he was the only stagnant figure outside of the Union. I decided he needed some company. 

I gave him a small wave.  

He gave me a strange look. 

I took that as permission to sit down with him. 

I launched in to an awkward introduction about who I was and what I was doing. I fumbled for the right words to adequately explain why I was intruding upon his peaceful afternoon. Finally, he understood. Our conversation began. 

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked. 

He smiled. 

"I want to build electric cars."  

"I joined the solar car team because it sounded cool and I knew one of the people that was on it. The captain of the solar car team knew a guy named Brian Shanks who works at a company that does electric car batteries. And so the team captain hooked me up with an internship there, and I've been there for two summers now."

"What's it like watching one of your inventions on the road for the first time?"

"Typically, it's unnerving and frantic, because something always goes wrong. Especially when I program stuff, because there are always bugs, initially. And typically I'm the one driving it, so if something goes horribly wrong, then I have to hit the big red 'oh shit' button. That's the technical term. I haven't gotten too hurt, yet."

[an explanation]

Small talk exhausts me.
Scripted conversation in general does.
"How are you?"
Think about how naturally your answer flows, whatever it may be.
"Fine."
"I'm so good."
"Good."
"Well, thanks. And you?"
Most times, I think we answer without thinking. We stick to the script, and if we deviate from it, both the speaker and the listener are caught off guard.

Some expect a real answer when they ask how someone is doing.
Most don't.

East Side Gallery, Berlin Wall. Photo: KB

I just spent the last two months in Germany, where small talk was a luxury I couldn't afford. I can't speak German, so when I found another English speaker--when I had the chance to have a conversation at all--I jumped right to what was meaningful. Yes, there was always a bit of room saved for pleasantries, to start off....but then it was on to the good stuff.

We would discuss the differences between our countries, what it meant to be German, Russian, or American.
We would question the views and opinions of the other, debating the validity of the other's view.
We talked about the dreams we had for ourselves and our families.
We talked about what life was like with our families.

We talked, always, about something more than the weather or the score of the last football game.

Since returning to the US, I feel myself learning my lines again.

"Oh my gosh! How was Germany?!"
"It was so good."
"It was incredible."
"I learned so much, about myself and the world, silly as that sounds!"

I always answer with a smile. They do, too. We smile, maybe we hug for good measure, and that's it. Germany was good. Two months of living abroad can be summed up in one simple, tired word.

It saddens me.

[small talk] is my attempt to ask real questions to real people.
"Good" will no longer be an acceptable answer.