We've all been there: alone on the Green at night, except for that one other person coming from the opposite direction. Who is it? Do you know them? You can't pretend not to see them. But it's late, and you don't feel like being social. Oh shoot -- they saw you looking. Maybe if you look toward the ground long enough, they'll think you really weren't looking. Ugh, each step closer is so stressful!
Ah, the stress that accompanies the familiarity of our small campus. After spending a little over a year here at Dartmouth, I have experienced and learned about a certain acknowledgment game that everybody plays. It's a game with a complex hierarchy that ranges from a verbal "Hello" to a trance that says, "I am so busy walking that I don't see you."
There are a loose set of rules that each person abides by, such as verbally acknowledging the kid in your class whom you did that project with two weeks ago or smiling at the person who checks your card at the gym everyday. However, a problem arises as time wears on and the rules become unclear. You see, the game is flawed because these rules of acknowledgement are contingent upon each player's interpretation of her relationship with another player. The game depends on an instantaneous exchange via ESP, within which the two players can say, "Let's smile at each other" or "Let's pretend not to notice one another." Unfortunately, since ESP is pretty much nonexistent for most of us, we have to deal with several uncomfortable situations.
For example, as all you '05's might be experiencing at this point in your undergrad career: How do you deal with trippees? Not the ones with whom you became best friends and see everyday, but those other ones, during that first week on campus, with whom you vowed to be best friends. I mean, a "best-friend" pledge is pretty huge -- does a simple "Hi" suffice for such a strong pact? It is definitely against the rules to ignore that distant trippee, but at the same time, saying, "We'll do lunch sometime," somehow brings down the relationship to a fake, impersonal level: you both know that lunch isn't going to happen. Or, if it does happen, what do you talk about now that you have gone months with nothing more than a "Hello"?
Now, change gears and consider the aforementioned person on the Green. In a situation where you are all alone, do you have the obligation to acknowledge them? After spending five childhood years in Shreveport, La., where southern hospitality runs rampant, my initial reaction would be yes. But what if the person was not raised in such an environment, or even worse, does not like saying hello to strangers? If I said hi, I might cause him stress or -- even worse -- (eek!) be rejected by means of silence!
And if that person is not a stranger, but rather one of your better acquaintances, but not someone with whom you would stop and have a short conversation, how do you deal with the long space between hellos and actually passing each other? For instance, once you have recognized the person and she has simultaneously recognized you (because everyone must be an active player while walking around campus -- it is a rule!), you must say hello. I mean, you know this person. But then the walk until you pass each other is long and awkward. Should you keep looking at the person, or look away? It's all part of the game and depends on who your opponent is.
In my experience, some players have used the tactic of looking down to kill 20 feet or so, and then pulling a sudden head-raise when we are about five feet apart. Tacky or tactful? I don't know but only the advanced players can pull off this move successfully with all the timing and whatnot.
Now, add some other people into the picture. With more people, the easier it is to skillfully ignore those questionable acquaintances. I don't like the concept of "ignoring" people -- but I'm merely a player of the game! Ignoring people eliminates that player from your opponents' list -- that list of people whom you must acknowledge if you see them.
After a while, I get tired of playing the game because the stress of walking to the library just piles up. Who will I see? Will they want to say hello? Do they deserve a hello? Have we said enough hellos that now we should regress to a meaningful grin? It's just too much to think about. Squish those questions into a span of three seconds, along with the memories of being beaten in this game by one too many awful rejections, and I am about ready to explode!
