“You look like you work in the kid’s tent.”
The toe-head blonde who says this to me is nine or ten.
When I ask him why, he vaguely gestures toward me and shrugs his shoulders.
In his defense, it’s 10:00 AM, I have glitter on my cheeks, and my hair is in space buns. I’m also at a bluegrass festival, so I’m not wildly out of place.
We continue to chat, his grandfather chiming in from time to time to correct a small stretch of the truth or outright lie and I learn all about how he goes to ski school every year.
We’re in the Telluride Gondola, a 12-minute ride that has been my daily commute through my time at the festival for work. The 24 minutes of confined space with a few strangers has become my favorite part of the day. We chat back and forth about the mountains, the music, where we’re all from. It’s genuinely pleasant.
A while ago (probably years ago), I listened to a podcast (the usual beat) about the invention of the ATM- a man who hated social interactions and felt that the brief interactions between bank tellers and customers were unnecessary. He invented a machine of convenience and broke down a social convention.
We live in a world shaped by people trying to reduce one-on-one social interactions. MORE AI MORE APPS MORE PHONE IF YOU STAY ONLINE YOU WILL SPEND MONEY DON’T THINK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE. On a day off from work, I can entirely avoid talking to another human- self-checkout at the grocery store, self-pump at the gas station, online shopping, all of it comfortably alone.
I love a good recharge- as I write this, I’m sitting alone on the porch, having turned down an invitation to go to a bar. I needed some time after a wildly busy day to come back to myself.
That said, the small highlights of my day are almost always the tiny conversations I have with strangers: I tell a girl I love her tattoos and she whips out her phone to show me the artists, an older man asks me directions and I happen to know where he’s headed (he tells me it felt lucky to run into me), a kid wearing cowboy boots waves at me and I wave back.
I feel grounded when I’m reminded I’m not the only human being on earth. We’re all here, struggling and thriving and feeling weirdly sentimental about the little things. It’s nice to connect.
On the gondola, a family tells me about their two-week road trip which has been their dream vacation. A couple tells me about how awesome their hike was that day. I tell a woman about the race I’m training for and she tells me she wants to start running. It’s a tiny magical moment every day.
I love #hopecore or whatever. Sue me.