Homeostatic Lives: Sitting Down with a Stranger for Lunch

Last Sunday, as I was waiting in line for June's installment of Here's the Story, I was approached by Makiko.

"Duo! Can I talk to you after the show?"
"Yes!"

I talked to her before the show, and that's how I learned about the audition for A Month of..., a new storytelling show masterminded by the folks behind Here's the Story. My audition task was to "sit with a stranger for lunch." Easy enough, I thought, my mind already turning.

At the show, Megan sat next to me. After the show, I asked her to eat lunch with me, sitting. Surprisingly, she agreed. We planned to meet on Tuesday, and I walked away feeling accomplished. The engineer bro part of my brain is high-fiving itself on arriving at the simplest and therefore most elegant solution.

On my way out, I ran into Dan, co-host of Here's the Story and general person-in-charge. I wanted to talk to him a bit more about the audition, and he happily obliged. So we walked and talked about the new show, and he gave me several examples of the ingenious ways people are performing the task.

We parted ways. As I was walking back to my apartment from the theater, I edged closer and closer to freak-the-fuck-out mode.

"The simplest way is most certainly NOT the best way!" the entertainer part of my brain exclaimed as it punched engineer bro in the kidney. "Life on easy mode? What is wrong with you? You call yourself a try-hard? Do you even want to get the part bro?"

And so, plagued with the nagging thought that playing the part of the straight man is for underachieving suckers, I went to bed and promptly failed to sleep. By the time 6 AM rolled around and the light of dawn diffused into my room, I had a handful of new ideas in my head:

Sit down for lunch with my roommate and talk about the saddest, creepiest, most bizarre shit until he doesn't know who I am anymore. I would start the lunch as a friend and end the lunch as a stranger.

Sit down for lunch with the people who work at the restaurants I frequent. I love talking to people in the food industry, and this would be right up my alley.

And so on. By this point I've calmed down a bit, and started planning something more elaborate than what I've set up with Megan. I started planning multiple lunch excursions for the week.

But then, as I was aiming for the fences of insanity, another part of my brain spoke up. It was neither hyper-practical nor flamboyant. It was quiet and composed.

"Why do you invite people to dinner parties?" it asked.

"Because I love meeting new people." the answer came out without a moment's hesitation.

"Well then, I'll leave you with that."

And in that moment, clarity washed over me: the reason I dine with strangers is to learn about them, to share myself with them, and to turn them into friends. Megan was not merely the most elegant solution to the problem posed to me: she was someone I wanted to know better. I didn't need to deconstruct the task of "sit" "with" "a" "stranger" "for" "lunch" to complete the task. In fact, I'd probably hate myself if I did something stupid in the name of entertainment.

Megan and I met at Vegetarian Express on Tuesday. She ordered the lentil soup and a juice cocktail ("it tastes like health!" ~ Megan). I ordered a tofu sandwich and a shake. We talked about everything and nothing.

Megan was born in Michigan and went to college in DePaul. There, she studied psychology. She is working two unpaid internships right now. She guides visitors and performs a multitude of administrative and clerical tasks at Illinois Masonic, and she works with cancer patients downtown as a counselor of sorts.

Did I mention she is a three-time cancer survivor?

She owns a beagle-husky mix (she calls it a busky), which looks like a beagle with stunning husky eyes. She had just started to bake, and brought her first batch of cookies to her first Here's the Story potluck. She loves her job and wants to help as many people as possible (though getting paid for it would certainly be nice). The conversation went on. Family. Vegetarianism. Restaurants.

The encounter reinforced my belief that the task required no gimmicks on my part to make it interesting. Good food and good conversation go a long way.

As we parted ways, I knew I will see Megan again soon. However, the next time we meet, we will no longer be strangers — not really.