Get To Know Them

I used to go drinking with an alcoholic. OK, truth be told a. this guy hadn't said that he was, though it was, I think, clear that he had a problem, and b. he was not necessarily the only alcoholic that I have in all probability had drinks with. Let's start again, there was this one heavy drinking dude with whom I used to go to bars, also living rooms, stoops and the occasional rehearsal space. He was, at least when lubricated, much better at social activities than I. He was an old movie afficionado and had taken many pages from the books of the chivalrous ranks of the silver screen characters which gave him impeccable manners and a facility with getting-to-know-you conversation that I have simply never been able to master. As a result I found going out with him really comfortable and fun because he started all the scary conversations and I only had to participate when I was ready.

At this point I should maybe say that I am a small talk bumbler. I often plan out what I'm going to say far in advance, even if that thing is, "I would like a margarita, frozen with salt, please." Yes, even when I'm talking to you. No, I'm not kidding. Almost everyone who blogs has probably had an experience in life and then on the way home begun to write up the post in her mind. Long before blogging was a gleam in an MIT student's eye I would do the equivalent of drafting the post in my head when on my way to meet people. I still do it. Yes, even with you. No, I don't find you scary but I get anxious about having something to say and having it be the right thing so I stockpile. It's like notecards, but in my head. So when I walk into your house and I have some kind of "opening line" anecdote you can bet that I've been working on that for about 10 blocks. How'd I do? Does the punch line work or should I give it another pass?

Anyway, I did manage to see these encounters with my bar friend as a learning experience and I figured I'd pass along the lesson to you: learn the bartender's name.

Now that I've said that it sounds absurdly simple and logical and, I don't know, sane so probably you already know. It was a revelation, though, to awkward, pre-planned conversation girl that if you exchanged names with the bartender and had a minimal amount of civil conversation your night would progress more smoothly. We were given drinks, snacks, preferred seating and rarely lacked for attention. Plus we met a lot of lovely people who were working their asses off ankle deep in Corona on a Saturday night.

While I have continued to try and practice this tiny lesson in social grace I have never quite matched the instant camaraderie that my friend was able to muster. I may be a hopeless case.

What's the best lesson you've been taught about the social graces of ingestibles?