In the last few weeks I have discovered that there are two very distinct types of people in this world, or at least in the northeastern section of the United States. There are people who look for opportunities to play, and those who avoid opening up to the game.
It's not like there is a specific game involved; it is just a convenient way to describe the openness of some people to an opportunity to connect in a spontaneous and humorous way to someone they do not know. Here are a few qualifying questions so you can see if you are ready for the game:
Do you smile at people on the street even if you do not know them?
Do you talk to salespeople, cab drivers, and restaurant servers? More than telling them what you want or where you would like to go?
If you overhear a story, or part of one, on an elevator or another public place, do you finish it in your head? Do you try out more than one ending?
When you go to the zoo, do you have discussions with some of the animals? Do they listen? Better yet, do they answer? If you have never gone to the zoo, you need not read past this point.
Do you ever have conversations with inanimate objects? Again, do they answer?
I am not suggesting that you need to behave in a way that would end with you wrapped up in a nice white sheet and carted off someplace. I just want to discover those who qualify to join in with spontaneous activities, and occasionally take them to another level.
For instance, I was in Burlington, Vermont a few days ago, sitting on a huge rock in the center of town, watching the many shoppers, diners and tourists who were enjoying a sunny afternoon on the outdoor mall. Sitting quietly by myself, I took notice of the folks who noticed me, and the vast majority who didn't. Not that I am ordinarily all that noticeable, but I did have a cast on my right leg, and it was painted to the hilt with flowers, birds, ants, a caterpillar and a goldfish pond. It was definitely noticeable.
Most of the people walking by did not look anywhere near my direction. They were focused on whatever they had to do, and nothing was to get in their way. There were also street musicians out in the sun, and these folks took no notice of them, either. Sad, as a couple of the musicians were really talented.
Then there was the group who looked, stared even, then looked away as though any real connection was terrifying. They were also kind of sad, and definitely not ready for a game.
The group that took a moment or two to ask about the cast, who had painted it, how did I hurt myself, was I going to keep it and how much longer did I have to wear it, they were almost ready to jump in. There was one girl, however, who got the game going.
She had a cast on her left leg, and it was purple. She was walking with a cane, and came right by my rock. She looked directly at me, and I looked directly at her. We both grinned, and the game was on. I jumped up and started to walk on her right, so that our casts were on the outside legs. Arm in arm, we limped our way down the next block, laughing and exchanging stories of our general clumsiness and how it had led to broken bones.
People backed away from the center of the street to let us through, and many of them looked like they wanted to join the parade. We both made it very clear that something had to be in a cast for them to be full members of our marching squad. We were absolutely in sync, not only in step with our opposite legged limping, but also in attitude and ability to stick to the same story, though we were making it up as we went.
Soon we got to the store where she planned to stop, and we bid each other goodbye, still giggling at our joint predicament. I have to mention here that we had very little in common. She was about 25, I am 64. She was much taller than I am, and had broken both bones in her lower left leg jumping over her dog as he decided to stand up. I stepped on a foot that was asleep, and snapped an outside bone on the right.
She was dressed conservatively, while I was in cropped jeans and a brightly printed t-shirt. It did not matter, as we were both delighted to find someone to play with.
A good friend of mine, who I had guessed was open to games, proved to me last night that she was more than ready. She and her husband and son joined my spouse and me at a local restaurant, sitting outdoors under a tent while it rained down around us. We were there not only for the food, which was excellent, but also to support another friend who was in a German band that was serenading us, quite loudly, while we ate and yelled across the table at each other.
The rain had stopped by the time we were done, and we headed out for the parking lot just as the band struck up with the familiar waltzing rhythms of "Edelweiss." I looked at her, she looked at me, and we immediately jumped into each other's arms and began to waltz our way to the car, under the confused gazes of our husbands and her son, though he looked like he might be ready to take part. By the way, my leg was still in the cast.
We now understand that each of us is open to play, and I look forward to our next gathering, as the gloves are off, the door has been opened, and the game is underway. It should be a blast.
How do you get to be in the game? All that is needed is openness, spontaneity, and a fearless desire to connect with others. When an opportunity to play presents itself, you need to leap in with both feet. It is almost certain that someone will be there to join you, giving you a joyful moment and a delightful memory. Play on!
