I remember the first time it happened.
It was New Year's Eve, and my friend Jayne and I attended a party. It was a typical Seattle social gathering, meaning it had the appearance (and depth of feeling) of a beer commercial—Seattle folks' only reference for social normality. Well, not quite like a beer commercial. No minorities are ever present. But the parties are attended by fine white stock from all walks of life, provided the walk was no longer than three miles.
Everyone was very kind. "Nice to meet you, John," they dutifully said. These would be the last words spoken to me all night. I would be spoken at, of course. If only I'd found these people remotely as interesting as they found themselves, I would have been fine. As they stared through me and droned endlessly about god knows what, unable to discriminate between their every moronic thought and something that was of any conceivable interest to another human being, I glared at the only person I knew.
Aware of my misery, Jayne did nothing about it. She thought it was good for me, that the relentless waves of banal vainglory eroding my soul were sculpting me into a well-adjusted Seattlite. And so I feigned interest in their witticisms—"Ha ha! Hoo boy! I'd have thought someone pronouncing 'Volvo' as 'vulva' would get tiresome after the first 200 times, but dang it, some jokes just age like fine wine!"—and as soon as their backs were turned, I slipped out the back door. Only Jayne would notice my absence. She noticed the hell out of it, as I recall. Something about midnight and mothers fucking, I think. The memory's hazy.
This story has many stanzas, but they're all pretty much variations on the first.
It's amazing. Point me in any direction and fire me 100 miles, and it's like landing in a warm bath. My college town is jarring in that complete strangers make eye contact, smile, and ask me how I am. I made more friends in four days in Detroit than I have in four years in Metamuville. Pittsburgh, Atlanta, Chicago, Phoenix, Oakland, Kansas City, even New York—you name it, they're all warm baths to me. I can't bloody wait to hit the road. I'm tired of hiding.