Conversations often lost in Wonderland

Monday, November 2, 1998

Conversations often lost in Wonderland

COMMUNICATION Random chats on sushi, Chee-tohs beat typical
hellos, good-byes

You could say that life is a string of conversations: a
meandering succession of "hellos," "how are yous" and eventual
"good-byes" ­ and if you did say that I’d probably agree with
you. Besides, is there anything better than a good
conversation?

Just to set the scene: in this particular situation, you’ve just
finished class and you’ve decided to meet your friend Fritz to go
to lunch at Tsunami’s ­ the new sushi place on campus.

Fritz is counting: "13, 14, 15, 16, 17 ­ "

"What are you doing?"

"Counting."

"Why?"

"Because I only want one serving on my Chee-tohs. And one
serving is 21 of these little curly-cue things. You want one?"

"No, I don’t want a Chee-toh. I don’t even think that they’re
really food. Look at them. You only see that shade of orange if
you’re working on the Manhattan project. Besides we’re here to have
sushi."

"So, I can’t have Chee-tohs? What, is that a taboo or something?
I can’t have Chee-tohs and sushi."

"Do I really need to explain this to you?" (And, you’re thinking
to yourself maybe I should, but you continue.) "Besides, look at
your fingers ­ you have that disgusting orange residue on your
fingers. Now that’s disgusting."

"Come on. It’s only Chee-tohs dust."

"Chee-tohs dust?"

"Yeah, Chee-tohs dust."

"Well, is there a Chee-tohs fairy? Chester Cheetah maybe, who
sprinkles orange dust on whatever those are."

"No, don’t be silly ­ of course not."

(At this point you’re wondering how you could possibly be
friends. Honestly, I really don’t know.)

Fritz starts drumming his fingers on the table, and you say,
"What is it now?"

"I’m not sure about eating live fish," says Fritz.

"You’re not going to eat live fish ­ it’s only raw."

"You’re sure?"

"Positive."

"You’re sure? I might get sick. Do you want my untimely death
hanging over your head?"

"Doesn’t bother me."

By now Fritz is hysterical: "What? And I thought that we were
friends."

"Don’t worry, I was only kidding."

"I doubt that."

(Remember there are only two circumstances when you can wish
death on someone: if they’re your friend or if they’re your
enemy.)

"So, is it OK if we go grocery shopping tomorrow as usual?" you
ask.

"I guess. I’ve been preparing."

"What do you mean, you’ve been preparing?"

"I had to drink a half gallon of milk today, because I knew
we’re going shopping tomorrow, and I can’t fit another gallon of
milk into the refrigerator. A half gallon may seem like a lot, but
I think that I could handle more. I know what you’re thinking: ‘Can
he drink a whole gallon in a day?’ Well, I’m saying ‘Yes, he
can.’"

"Are you aware that you’re referring to yourself in the third
person?"

"Yes, he is."

"Snap out of it."

"OK, relax. Relax. At least I’m not a Type A personality with an
obsessive-compulsive speech disorder. You always need to be talking
for hours and hours and hours, and when you’re not talking your
thinking about talking. I know that you try to hold back, but you
can’t handle it."

"As though you should be talking?"

"Hey, I can handle silence; I’m secure with myself as a
non-verbal communicator."

"OK. Stop talking."

"Only if you do."

"OK."

(Right now the two of you are staring at each other, trying not
to make eye contact, because making eye contact would be admitting
that you’re actually doing this.)

The two of you just sit there, until you say, "This is just
ridiculous."

"I win."

"Come on. You can’t be serious."

"I … win," Fritz insists.

"You’re a fool."

"I’m a fool. This was your idea."

"Fine. Fine. If that’s all you need to rebuild your self-esteem
that’s fine with me," you say.

"Guess what? "I’m going to buy a potted plant."

"You’re what?"

"I’m going to buy a potted plant for the apartment."

"Why?"

"It would look nice."

"No, it wouldn’t. Why do you need a potted plant? Let me review:
We live inside; plants live outside. People like Martha Stewart
just fool themselves into believing that you can bring plants
inside. You don’t see people bringing trees and planting them into
the carpet? People don’t grow grass inside. Then why should plants
sit next to the entertainment center?"

"I’m sorry I brought it up."

"Don’t worry about it. Go get the sushi."

"You sure? I don’t know. I still don’t know about eating this
sushi. I prefer food that’s crispy, flaky, tender and
delicious."

"Crispy, flaky, tender and delicious?"

"Yes, crispy, flaky, tender and delicious."

"You sound like the advertising line on some TV dinner."

"Is that right?"

"Yes. You’re a walking advertisement."

"So you’re saying that I’m a sellout?"

"No, you’re saying that I said that you’re a sellout, and I
never said that."

"Wait, wait ­ you said I’m a walking advertisement. When
you said that, you meant I’m a sellout."

"No, I never said that."

"What did you say?"

"I never said that you said that I’m a walking advertisement
with the intention of saying that you’re a sellout; I would never
say that."

"Oh, I would never say that."

"Really?"

"Really."

(You pause for a moment ­ I think at this point we all
would.)

"Well, I guess it sucks to be me."

"Well, that’s what I’ve heard."

Maybe you’re saying: "Well isn’t that kind of a mean thing to
write in your column?" Sorry, but I do have a point.

Perhaps conversations aren’t really a string of "hellos," "how
are yous" and eventual "good-byes," but maybe ­ just maybe
­ there’s something more.

Hellos and good-byes only seem to keep the conversation in
place; they’re more "conversational bookends" than anything else;
the rest is up to you.

In the end, conversations are like sushi: there’s good sushi and
there’s bad sushi. Good sushi keeps you coming back for more and
bad sushi leaves more than just a bad taste in your mouth.

I’m not sure where seaweed fits into this, but what I do know is
you always need to know a good sushi place. I’m sure of it.Spencer
Hill

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