The Kindness of Strangers

I wrote a few days ago about my uncanny ability to make friends out of strangers. It's a good skill to have in that moment of the transformation. After all; most people leave a place and have only a fleeting familiarity with a few faces. I like to know the names and stories behind the faces. That's because most people are interesting if you give them a chance to be interesting.

But there's something else great about my social prowess.* It means that if I spend enough time in one area, I'm bound to start knowing the people around me. I don't see as many strangers waiting to become friends. I start seeing friends who were once - only briefly - strangers.

*It feels weird to call it social prowess. Prowess sounds like the word prowl, and that sounds like a thing creepy dudes do. I'm not a creepy dude, am I? (I might be.)

Tonight, I cruised into downtown South Bend and stopped for a Mocha Dark at the South Bend Chocolate Cafe.* I locked up the bike, popped in the headphones, and strolled around the city, imagining myself to be more of a stud than I am. It was a perfect night for the thing, and seemed like an appropriate way to celebrate the Cubs' ninth inning win over the White Sox. (Yes, I did have to squeeze that in somehow.)

*Fact: South Bend does the best chocolate in the United States. I'm leaving for New Mexico in something like six weeks and I can say that I will miss South Bend Chocolate and Traders Point Creamery very much. I wonder if either would sponsor a cyclist.

While I was at the cafe, I recognized a man that I met once. My friend Cory got married in June 2005. I was his best man, and his uncle was one of the groomsmen. The primary thrust of this paragraph is that I recognized Cory's uncle. We spoke for a minute; then I got ready to go on my way.

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I was fifteen feet away from my bike when it happened. The tire exploded with a kind of -BOOM!- then a slow and depressing -sssssss- sound. It was locked up on the fence that surrounded the outdoor cafe and I am certain that each of the patrons heard the thing go. If they didn't notice the sound, they certainly heard my droning cry of "Ohhh no!"

People reacted with an uncommon level of concern, offering whatever help they could. But in the end, it was Cory's uncle - a man I'd met once - who came to the rescue. He offered me a ride home, which I accepted readily. He, his wife, and his son* helped me load up my bike and drove me to safety. It's the kind of thing that Paul and I will almost require of those around us as we travel to Minnesota and then to New Mexico.

*Cute wedding story, and I hate cute wedding stories. During Cory & Beth's wedding, the flower girl stubbornly refused to sprinkle the flowers as she walked the aisle. Cory's nephew - who was the ringbearer - confronted her later; asking, "Why didn't you do your job?" Her response? "Oh. I didn't want to make a mess."

The moral of the story is this. Most people are good people, as long as you give them the opportunity to be. But get to know a person, even just a little bit; and they become a little bit gooder.

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You may have noticed that I didn't mention Cory's uncle by name. That's because I'm horrible with names. I am good at meeting people and remembering every circumstance surrounding the time we met, then I crap on their name. So no, I didn't remember his name.

However, I did leave him with the address of this blog, so there's a real good chance that he's reading this right now, realizing that I never had an idea of his name. This ruins any chance I had of faking it for the rest of my life.

I did do some research. Dean & Donna. The name of their son? No idea.

Thanks Dean, Donna, and son. It's people like you that make my adventures possible.

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Updated: Their son's name is Benjamin. Thanks again to the three of you!