Shut your mouth when you're talking to me.

In sociology this morning we were talking about social interactions and the subtle yet very important rules that govern them and the powerful reactions we get when we break them.  We were told to go break some social convention on Tuesday and be ready to talk about it today.  Because of the foot-or-so of snow that fell from the sky yesterday in one solid blob, I never left the house and therefore did not get to be weird in public.  Luckily, I spent most of my teen years being weird in public, purposely breaking social conventions for fun and curiosity.

One girl brushed her teeth at school and got a laugh and a lot of disgusted looks.  Another wore shorts and a tank top in this arctic Wisconsin weather.  One guy ignored his cab driver's prompts for questions.  Another woman spent the day repeating everything anyone said to her.  A grocery store cashier said "Would you like paper or plastic?" to which she replied "Would you like paper or plastic?" and he said, "I just asked you that." to which she replied, "I just asked you that."

I grew up in a small town so it was really easy to be weird in public.  Growing up, "fag" was the most common insult and I wore dresses occasionally just to push the homophobe's buttons.  For a while I wore a top hat and carried a cane.  I dyed my hair strange colors - people even freaked out when I dyed it black, a fairly natural color.  I gave impromptu public performances, like the time my friend Brian and I stood outside the Eagle's Ballroom in Milwaukee after an Oasis concert.  Brian stood on one side of the exit shaking everyone's hand as the left, thanking them for coming to the show, while I huddled in my grungy coat and asked for money for smack.  Actually, Brian and I used to a lot of these things - giving surrealist poetry recitals on street corners, staging fake muggings and car-jackings, running through late-night tennis games in July dressed in Halloween costumes - you know, that sort of thing.

Once, in a diner, a friend and I were having a conversation about desserts and he said he hated cheesecake.  I had never met anyone who didn't like cheesecake before.  He said that most people don't like it, that I was in the minority.  I couldn't believe it, so I stood up in my booth and got the attention of the entire restaurant and took a poll.  "Excuse me, dear patrons of this fine eatery!  I am conducting an impromptu scientific poll.  Raise your hand if you enjoy cheesecake!  And now... raise your hand if you do not enjoy cheesecake.  Okay, thank you.  As you were."  I was surprised - the majority, about 70% did not enjoy cheesecake.

Even though I was stuck in the igloo I call my home, I was still able to contribute quite a bit and was interviewed about my interactions with people driving cab, "Bartender Syndrome" and whatnot.  I almost mentioned jackstaxi (in which I just made a post) but in a round about sort of way, when the instructor asked me if a lot of cab drivers were writers.  I turned a little red at first, while telling the diner story, but quickly got myself under control and talked fairly eloquently.  I'm feeling more confident about my public speaking issues.  Sometimes I wonder what happened to that crazy kid who did all that weird shit and how I learned to be so damned socially intimidated.

Okay, thank you.  As you were.