Stranger Danger

I’m a big bundle of neuroses, and one of my big ones is strangers. And yet, like the proverbial cat who only wants to hang out with the allergic person, strangers are drawn to me. Now, if these were normal strangers, that would be one thing, but on the whole, they tend to be, well, strange strangers.

I once heard a comedian say “You know you’re from Toronto if you consider making eye contact an invasion of personal space.” That pretty much sums up my interactions with strangers back home. On the subway, making eye contact was an invitation for the weirdos to strike up a conversation. Aside from the fact that my commute was great for getting a lot of reading done, the book acted as an additional shield against the prying eyes of those who wanted to -- TALK. I mean, I’m not great at small talk at the best of times, but it takes a special kind of crazy to start talking to a stranger on the subway who is already reading a book. Completely freaks me out.

It’s happened many times. One time, a guy interrupted my reading to show me pictures of his daughter. If it was a newborn… I could probably forgive that. But no, just a whole roll devoted to a teenaged kid standing in a yard. Being a perennially polite Canadian, I let him ramble on, made a few non-committal remarks and got out at the next convenient stop.

Ever been in a movie theatre and had a complete stranger sit in the seat right next to you? Of course you have. But what about in a theatre that’s only ¼ full, and the person comes in partway through the movie -- far too late to be able follow the plot? That’s happened to me THREE times. I kid you not. Three. Each time, I was tense and uncomfortable for the remainder of the movie, partly because I’m envisioning the bit in Scream 2 where the girl gets murdered in a movie theatre. The over-active imagination doesn’t help any, but I’m a strange stranger magnet.

After moving to Florida, the friendly greeting and eye contact when you pass someone on the street or in a hallway… was totally foreign to me. It’s a cultural difference I’m still in the process of hurdling, because every time it happens the first thought to flit through my brain is “What do they want? And is it going to creep me out?” Hey, at least I’m looking them in the eye now. Progress. And if nothing else, I can probably use my stranger magnet as inspiration somewhere. Because you know I’m just waiting for the perfect story to slot in a stranger sliding into a movie theatre partway through and… murder? Delivering a secret message? Kidnapping? Don’t know yet, but I will!

KC Burn