Nearly as soon as I set foot in Atlanta, I was in a lengthy conversation with a random stranger. She was a middle-aged woman working the concession stand of a high-school game, and I was her customer. She raved about my voice, asked me if I do radio (code for "I've seen less homely yak butt"), asked me where I'm from, why I was there. She showed more interest in me than have the sum of all strangers in Seattle over the past four years.
It was uncomfortable. I used to be at ease around the socially healthy, but now I am unpracticed and awkward. I have become more like the very people I despise, and I hate myself for that. As the weekend passed and I dealt with more strangers, I loosened up. Perhaps I am not permanently damaged.
I marveled at the easy interactions in airports, stores, games and sidewalks—people making eye contact and nodding, saying "excuse me" unnecessarily. Just to be courteous! Imagine! Just to acknowledge they had entered the space of another human being. I marveled at how jarring I found it.
As I boarded my return flight to Seattle and surveyed the ancient plane in which I would be flying the next four hours, I was disappointed. "I flew the new Airbus here," I said to my seat-mate. "It was amazing. Have you ever?" She averted her eyes and pretended not to have heard me, despite having looked directly at my yak-homely face when I was talking to her.
Idiot! I thought. You're on a plane to Seattle. Just stare straight ahead for four hours and pretend you're alone in the universe.
My first stop when home was the grocery store. I'd been to several over the last couple days, and the contrast was amazing. Those of you who live anywhere but Seattle, you know how when you say "excuse me," even when the other person is at fault, they acknowledge it with a "No problem," "My bad," or a polite grunt? Yeah. We don't do that here. We move mountains of plausibility to pretend we don't notice anyone else.
As I left the parking lot, pedestrians walked in front of my car, exercising their right of way but nonetheless making me brake. They stared straight ahead, pretending to have never seen me, to have never made the decision to make me brake. God forbid they burn a calorie acknowledging the deference of another human being. Next thing you know, that person will be asking them how their day is going, and we can't have that.