Talking to strangers

My husband Brad is a friendly guy. Dude will strike up a conversation with anyone -- from waiters to parking attendants. We'll be on our way in or out of somewhere, in a hurry as always, and the next thing you know it's 25 minutes later and Brad and [insert complete stranger] are comparing their DVD collections. I think it comes from his upbringing in a small town, where this is common practice. It's also a good way to discover that you have more relatives than you thought ("oh -- random grocery store clerk -- you're Aunt Betty's daughter's mother-in-law").

I'm not saying I'm an unfriendly person. I guess I just have a different philosophy on personal space. I spent the first decade of my life on the crowded and not-particularly-friendly East Coast, but more importantly, most of my fam is from NYC, where you will get thrown in the loony bin for being friendly to strangers. I learned my social graces from them. Don't say hi to random people in the grocery store unless you want to get your face rearranged.

But more importantly, most strangers just do not interest me. Call me a b**ch, but I'm a busy person, and I choose to not spend my free time talking to random people on the street who don't really have anything fascinating to say.

Over the past few months, I've literally had to get us out of "friendly" conversations with -- among others -- a window salesman and a pimp in downtown Detroit by being extremely rude. But last night, I think I discovered a more effective method.

As we were walking to our car, we passed a vendor selling used books on the street. Now, I'm all about used books, but this man's collection looked like it was taken from my parents' basement (a musty, yellowed copy of Lake Woebegone Days right next to a never-read paperback of The Grapes of Wrath?!?). But Brad simply can't look away from a book sale of any kind, so we found ourselves perusing through the offerings. And, like always, he struck up a conversation with the vendor. Next thing you know, he and the 55-year-old guy are talking about sales training. (Brad has never worked in sales -- I have no idea how this came about.) The way things were going, I knew I was in for at least another 45 minutes, and I didn't see any good way to break into the conversation and say "let's PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE get out of here."

I picked up the least dog-eared book on the table -- a hardcover copy of The World is Flat -- and handed the guy $5. I'm a genius! The sale finally ended their chatting and gave us an "out" to walk away.

As we walked down the block with our new book, Brad started laughing and put his arm around me. "I can't believe," he said, "that you literally had to buy me out of a conversation."

It worked, didn't it? $5 was a small price to pay for my freedom, and I got a free book out of the deal. I may be onto something....