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kasihyaI was walking down the sunny, well-peopled sidewalk on Broadway to catch the bus back to campus this afternoon when I saw a vaguely familiar-looking girl out of the corner of my eye. She sat at one of the cast iron tables outside the coffee shop, gathering her things in preparation for exodus. I have a good memory for faces but a poor memory for names and context, so I gave her the not-quite smile that I do in these situations. It seems safer to acknowledge familiar faces in a way that leaves room for plausible deniability, given that about half the time it turns out that I don't actually know the person -- they're just someone I see around on campus a lot. It's a small campus, so this happens with alarming frequency to even the least observant of people. But when I glanced at her again, she was waving in earnest, so I stopped.
"I'm sorry. Do I know you?" I asked, with all of the natural grace and charm for which I am known amongst my friends.
She smiled. "I go to ------- college."
Fearing that she had taken me for a simpleton, I clarified, "No, I know -- but, like, which class?" At the moment, it was a toss-up between Victorian Literature and Medieval Monsters, two classes wherein I was only ever able to recognize faces as belonging to a generalized group, in the same way that one does not expect to be approached by a lone hand unaccompanied by a body.
"-------," she said, naming our school's sex and gender forum of wonder. While I processed this information, and congratulated myself on my incompetence, she stood there, somewhat awkwardly, before adding, "I'm," -- and then a name that I couldn't quite make out.
I leaned forward, feeling foolish. "I'm sorry?"
"Maddie," she repeated, smiling in a disarming manner.
"Oh! I'm Sean. Nice to meet you," I said. I believe there was a window of opportunity during which I ought to have put out my hand to shake hers over the flimsy cloth divide separating the coffee shop tables from the rest of the sidewalk, but I squandered that window by staring instead at her hands and wondering if they were too full for that to be appropriate. By the time I realized that yes, I ought to have shaken her hand to assure her of my enthusiasm for making her acquaintance, the window of opportunity had creaked ponderously shut. I ended up waving, while smiling at the general vicinity of her left shoulder. "I'll see you around," I said, not wishing to bring our acquaintance to an untimely end, but neither wishing to miss the bus and wait around town for another half an hour while my yoghurt slowly turned to cottage cheese.
Fortunately for me, she did not seem to see any reason to detain me further. "See you!" she said.
As I jogged down the street, groceries in hand, towards the bus stop, thoughts raced through my mind. The name of the person I just met unexpectedly is Maddie. Maddie Maddie Maddie, odd-looking duck in a very nice way, brown hair, goes to ---------, so I ought to go this week. I ought to go early so that I can find a seat near her and say 'Hi, I'd just like to apologize for being incredibly awkward on Friday. You looked familiar, but I had difficulty remembering where I knew you from, and it startled me. Lovely weather we had that day & etc.' Oh lord, what if I made her feel terrible? I smiled at the man in the hard hat who waved me past the construction cones that forbade entrance to the yawning abyss that had once been a parking lot. What a nice man, I thought. I'm sure that he doesn't get appreciated for the patience that he has with pedestrians; would it be appropriate to compliment him, or to make a pithy remark? No, I don't think so; I've made enough social faux pas for one day. I approached the bus stop and sat down on the edge of the flowerbed that surrounded a tree planted near the bus stop sign. As I did so, a phrase flashed through my mind, which so neatly sums up every chance encounter I have.
L'esprit de l'escalier, I thought. Those French have a word for everything.
END
"I'm sorry. Do I know you?" I asked, with all of the natural grace and charm for which I am known amongst my friends.
She smiled. "I go to ------- college."
Fearing that she had taken me for a simpleton, I clarified, "No, I know -- but, like, which class?" At the moment, it was a toss-up between Victorian Literature and Medieval Monsters, two classes wherein I was only ever able to recognize faces as belonging to a generalized group, in the same way that one does not expect to be approached by a lone hand unaccompanied by a body.
"-------," she said, naming our school's sex and gender forum of wonder. While I processed this information, and congratulated myself on my incompetence, she stood there, somewhat awkwardly, before adding, "I'm," -- and then a name that I couldn't quite make out.
I leaned forward, feeling foolish. "I'm sorry?"
"Maddie," she repeated, smiling in a disarming manner.
"Oh! I'm Sean. Nice to meet you," I said. I believe there was a window of opportunity during which I ought to have put out my hand to shake hers over the flimsy cloth divide separating the coffee shop tables from the rest of the sidewalk, but I squandered that window by staring instead at her hands and wondering if they were too full for that to be appropriate. By the time I realized that yes, I ought to have shaken her hand to assure her of my enthusiasm for making her acquaintance, the window of opportunity had creaked ponderously shut. I ended up waving, while smiling at the general vicinity of her left shoulder. "I'll see you around," I said, not wishing to bring our acquaintance to an untimely end, but neither wishing to miss the bus and wait around town for another half an hour while my yoghurt slowly turned to cottage cheese.
Fortunately for me, she did not seem to see any reason to detain me further. "See you!" she said.
As I jogged down the street, groceries in hand, towards the bus stop, thoughts raced through my mind. The name of the person I just met unexpectedly is Maddie. Maddie Maddie Maddie, odd-looking duck in a very nice way, brown hair, goes to ---------, so I ought to go this week. I ought to go early so that I can find a seat near her and say 'Hi, I'd just like to apologize for being incredibly awkward on Friday. You looked familiar, but I had difficulty remembering where I knew you from, and it startled me. Lovely weather we had that day & etc.' Oh lord, what if I made her feel terrible? I smiled at the man in the hard hat who waved me past the construction cones that forbade entrance to the yawning abyss that had once been a parking lot. What a nice man, I thought. I'm sure that he doesn't get appreciated for the patience that he has with pedestrians; would it be appropriate to compliment him, or to make a pithy remark? No, I don't think so; I've made enough social faux pas for one day. I approached the bus stop and sat down on the edge of the flowerbed that surrounded a tree planted near the bus stop sign. As I did so, a phrase flashed through my mind, which so neatly sums up every chance encounter I have.
L'esprit de l'escalier, I thought. Those French have a word for everything.
END
