Remember that episode of Seinfeld, where Jerry, Elaine, and George are waiting for a table at the chinese restaurant? Remember how Jerry dares Elaine to eat something from the plate of a stranger. “Don’t say anything. Just pick up the egg roll, eat it, and walk away.” Remember that?
*Pause. It’s kinda sad that I’m taking life lessons from a TV show, but there it is.
Anyway, Jerry tells Elaine that these people will never see you again and that she’d be giving them a story they can tell for the rest of their lives. So, I’m trying to do a little bit of that. To be more daring, to take a few risks. To stop caring so much what total strangers will think of me.
Which is why I walked up to a stranger at a concert a couple weeks ago and rubbed my hands along his extra-tall, super-spiky, purple-died mohawk. Twice. On two separate occasions, in different sections of the arena.
Because I wanted to know what that felt like. And that super polite young man? He’ll have a story to tell for the rest of his life.
*Note: at the same concert, we photo-bombed a group shot, and later yelled “Shazam” at a guy in a Shazam t-shirt. He had no idea what the lightning bolt on his red T meant! Kids these days. But, at least we gave them a couple stories.