Fend off five-minute friends

We meet them on the elevator. We see them on the shuttle. We hear their life story in line… We meet them on the elevator. We see them on the shuttle. We hear their life story in line during lunch hour at Sub Connection. They are the people who are impossible to avoid, because they are not a specific person. They are an indescribable entity that floats in our world like dust mites, clinging for a moment, and then they are gone. Generally, they are never seen again. Often they will be forgotten, but sometimes pieces of them will remain on their victims for the remainder of their lives. I am talking, of course, about five-minute friends.

It begins with eye contact. I’ll be enjoying a nice smooth ride on the Pitt shuttle. There is no iPod donned, because I have none; the classical music choice of the driver will suffice until I am in front of my computer. While I enjoy the soothing tunes, I will look around the bus. The riders are all normal-looking people. But when I look across from my seat, I lock eyes with a person for just a moment, and it is over.

He begins simply by saying, “Hello.” I know I am doomed. Within the next three minutes, he will know where I live, where I am from, what my major is and whether I prefer boxers or briefs. I prefer neither.

This person will act terribly interested in what I have to say, and maybe he is. However, I will never know, because this will be our first and last conversation. Maybe I will achieve a Facebook friend out of it. Hooray. Now I have the privilege of viewing his exciting weekend rituals. If he is male, I can see him and his buddies throwing them back. If she is a girl, I can see her sticking out her tongue and wearing big sunglasses.

But that is it. I spent five minutes making a friend whom I will never talk to again. Oh, of course I will see him. That’s the worst part. I’ll seem him going to class, in the library, et cetera. But now, because of that five-minute conversation, I am socially obligated to wave and greet him whenever eye contact is made.

At first, the greeting isn’t too much trouble. Simply offering a hello is no problem. But in a couple of weeks, an awkwardness will develop that cannot be avoided. He will make the eye contact with a little less effort than expected, and I will wave and say hello. But he won’t say it back. When this happens, I have officially said hello to no one and am a certifiably crazy person.

Once this has occurred, I have no choice but to question what has just occurred. Was I not a good enough five-minute friend? Am I not attractive enough for him to greet? Was there something in my Facebook profile that upset him? Within four hours, I will be drooling and smashing my head against a bedpost, with or without clothing on. Generally, all I’ll be wearing are a pair of tube socks and tennis shoes.

So how can one avoid all of this trouble? I have developed effective methods for avoiding oral transactions with anyone you don’t already know.

Start by getting an iPod. If someone is deeply involved in the latest Yanni track or an episode of “Punky Brewster” that she downloaded, no one will bother her. No one would consider starting a conversation with someone who has white buds in her ears.

If an iPod doesn’t work, simply calling a friend on the ol’ cell phone and talking about something trivial but involved will work wonders. If the person’s friends are in class, or if he has no friends, then I would recommend he just talk to no one. I would never suggest calling parents. Getting into a conversation with them requires a different set of rules.

If the cell phone thing doesn’t work, picking up a cheap pair of sunglasses from a local pharmacy will. This way, no one will be able to tell where the wearer of the sunglasses is looking, or if they are even awake. There is hardly a person in the world who will talk to someone who is wearing sunglasses, unless they already know that person. It is safe, cheap and effective. The only downfall is if the sunglasses are being worn at night. Then the wearer is set up for questions.

“Why are you wearing those sunglasses at night?”

The answer is quite simple. “Because my future is so bright,” or “Because the sun never sets on men like me.” Hopefully, this will scare the person off. When I feel uncomfortable responding this way, I simply don’t respond to the person’s question and just widely smile at them.

The war against five-minute friends will wage on for a long time. Human beings need to band together and work to avoid these people lurking at every corner just waiting to suck minutes of your life away. We’re all in this together. Just don’t talk to me about it.

Take a couple minutes and e-mail jmg77@pitt.edu. But please