How I lived a week, following the advice of strangers
Indecision someday I was finished. I can spend hours hanging around the store at the shelves of shampoos, deciding which one to choose. I will wind up circles in thought until the consultants start drilling me with a glance or it turns out that I blocked the way for other buyers. In general, a little pleasant. On the other hand, I love talking to new, strangers. When Hopes & Fears offered to experiment on themselves and allow strangers to make decisions for me for a whole week, I gladly agreed. The terms of the “game” sounded perfect, but it was clear that everything was not as simple as it seemed at first glance, and it would not be without consequences.
Cemetery gulls
THE FIRST DAY
My experiment began in San Francisco, where I flew for a few days - to stay with friends and take a breath before finally moving from New York to Vancouver and starting my studies at the magistracy. I arrived without any specific plans and could do anything and anytime. The day before I landed in Auckland and stopped at V., together with her and her two cool dogs, we had a great evening. In the morning I gathered in San Francisco, to meet with my girlfriend, and it dawned on me in the subway - this is it, the first opportunity to ask a stranger to make a choice for me. What to do on the way? Read, listen to music, draw? The local subway is quiet and deserted, not like the New York subway with trains full of trains. I could not muster the courage and turn to one of the passengers - and reached the destination.
At the exit from the station, a new dilemma arose: to go on an escalator or go up the stairs? I could not decide and finally sought the advice of a woman in a comfortable suit and with a package of products in her hands. "Hmm, well, I personally will go on the escalator ..." - she said embarrassed and fell silent. Not having received clear instructions, I decided to ask again, but now also with a pleading intonation: "Please decide for me!" “Escalator,” the stranger made her choice, and I gratefully jumped up the steps. The woman cheerfully walked up the escalator, looking around, as if she wanted to make sure that I was not following her.
We met with a friend at a cafe specializing in trendy ice cream, which was frozen using liquid nitrogen. Behind the bar - blond with an outstanding smile. I announced my budget and asked to surprise me, and a couple of minutes later I received a mix of chocolate ice cream, whipped cream and cookies. I myself have never ordered this, to say that it was very sweet - to say nothing. My friend and I settled on the street, the ice cream quickly melted and turned into a mess. We chatted about the livelihood: emotionally maimed men, general dependence on technology and lost skill in talking. Then she helped me choose a stranger from the crowd to ask me what to do after lunch: a girl in a blouse and glasses was sitting alone, buried in a telephone.
I embraced, went to her and laid out everything as it is. The girl turned out to be friendly, asked where I had been and what I saw, and then recommended going to Lands End - a beautiful beach, on which, however, it is chilly and which regularly draws in mist. I had to get a whole hour, to the northern outskirts of the city. There is a thick fog around me, in front of me is an ocean of cold green. I took off my shoes and went for a walk on the sand. A large flock of tiny seagulls was sitting on the beach (I decided it was them) with bright orange beaks that rose with shouts as soon as I got closer. There were more birds here than people, feathers and bird skeletons half sprinkled with sand all around.
I walked for a long time. I watched the black dog chasing the seagulls, jumping and barking like mad. And when she was hungry, I remembered a local cafe, which my friend recommended to me and from which, according to her, wherever you look, you have a great view of the ocean. It is located on the top of a hill. The menu was impressive with a set of completely unappealing dishes. I leafed through to the section with soups and asked the waiter, an overly serious guy, to choose for me. He was embarrassed and brought the chowder into a tiny bowl the size of a teacup, and with a slice of bread on a saucer. “This is our signature dish,” the waiter explained. This is very little food - I thought, but still perk up after dinner and went on a walk further, and then returned home to V.
Buying a hat
second day
In the morning I went to yoga and after classes I was dying of hunger, so I went to the nearest coffee shop to find out that they were being fed only pastries. I asked the barista where to go for breakfast, and he recommended a place called The Vault down the street. It turned out to be spacious, with a lot of worn lonely tables and quiet jazz coming from the speakers - it feels like time has stopped here. The waitress with a plentiful make-up with pleasure chose breakfast for me, after arranging a detailed questioning about preferences. She brought scrambled eggs, chicken sausage, toast and country-style potatoes. I liked everything except sausage - it was disgusting. The waitress returned to ask if I liked everything. I nodded and smiled with all my might, and then I wondered what would happen if I answered: "No." After breakfast, I settled in a coffee shop to work a little. Barista made me a latte with oranges and molasses. Awful, but I drank half by force.
For a while I worked hard, so my head went round. Then I asked for advice from the owner of the coffee house: go for a walk or take a breath on the spot and continue working? He proposed an alternative: shake the press or arrange a run, while simultaneously slandering text on a dictaphone. A funny option - it seemed to me, until I realized that a little bit more and I really have to do it. Thank God, he changed his mind and chose the usual walk. Fuh!
On the way, I came across a hat shop, where I spontaneously went hunting for a canoe hat (my old one had been worn out long ago). Almost immediately, I began a lively conversation with a consultant about how difficult it is to find the perfect hat. She helped choose three that should be tried on, and I asked her to decide which one (or none at all) I should buy. Two hats made it to the finals: one is cute and the other is practical. The consultant chose her sweetheart choice, but she advised to be on the lookout all the time and look for a better option. I bought a hat and felt great. No you shopping throwing!
In the evening, I met in a bar with V. and another friend A. They pointed to a man in a T-shirt with the inscription "A vegetarian fanatic from 1988" - he had to decide what I was drinking today. The man turned out to be a plumber and redirected me to a woman with a laptop - one of the bar owners. Her choice fell on a pleasant cocktail based on whiskey. Later, the friends decided where we were going to have dinner, and ordered the food themselves. It was very pleasant not to decide anything and not to plan. The dinner was great. Up to this point, all the difficulties associated with the experiment were either insignificant or easily reparable.
In dreams about chicken
third day
I was dying: a hangover was added to the Jetlag that was still tormenting me, and I was completely demotivated. For a while we hung out with V., and then crawled out into the street - to the nearest van with food. The saleswoman chose two tacos for me, with beef and braised pork. They were very tasty, but I myself would have ordered others - with tongue and giblets. I was increasingly worried about the idea that by the end of the week I would not be able to choose my own food. Strangers never offer me what I really want to eat.
Later I met in town with A., we were going to have a bite and listen to a symphony orchestra. A. - Fudi, he naturally didn’t want someone else to decide where we dine today and take on this mission. As a result, we went to the Greek grill bar, where a beautiful waiter, similar to Apollo, was waiting for us at the bar. I asked him to make an order for me. For a moment he froze, then he looked at me and squinted. A. and I sat down in front of the spit with meat fried to golden brown and waited for our order. I was dying of hunger and dreamed of only one thing - the chicken.
Guess what they brought me? Veggie roll. Wonder you can imagine. I almost burst into tears. Come on you asshole, sexy waiter! Kiss my ass. How dare you feed me to change THIS in the grill bar, famous for its meat dishes? In general, I brazenly stole from the plate A., who brought a delicious salad with pork. I also ate my stupid sweet potato sandwich, but did not become less angry. Later, the waiter brought us Greek yogurt as a compliment, because A. talked about my experiment and mental yearning for an uneaten chicken.
I have never been to the philharmonic; it turned out to be a great place for those who like to treat people. There are a lot of rich, old people dressed up in tatters. A. was looking forward to this concert, so I also tried to feel what was happening. During the break, I laid eyes on the elegant old lady with a clear tan and painted eyebrows. She looked like the heroine of a paperback novel - a generous old woman giving out her fortune to those in need. I approached her for advice - which museum should I go to while I am in the city.
The lady and her friend recommended the Palace of the Legion of Honor. I did not hear about this and was worried, no matter how it turned out to be a military museum. The old women described it with delight and added that on Sundays there are wonderful organ concerts there. "Are you going to go there tomorrow?" - clarified one of the ladies. Why not. Thanking them for the recommendation, I was going to leave, as I heard: “Thank you for your interest. It's nice to give advice.” The second half of the concert I made sketches. A woman sitting nearby helped me to choose a pencil. Pictures in the end turned out stupid. After the concert, A. and I went to a bar, where he chose drinks. In general, the evening was a success.
White girls
day four
While we were hanging out with A., he took all the decisions for me. First thing in the morning we went to the coffee shop where A. works, and there we met his eccentric friend and regular customer T. "On Sundays, I always dress in my most comfortable clothes," he said on the move. T. was in brogah and jacket. He adopted this rule from his grandfather, who wore the best on weekends. All together we decided to have breakfast, the guys chose a Mexican eatery.
Since T. suddenly appeared in my life, I decided to entrust him with the choice of food. In response, she received a delicious cake with beans, eggs, chili and guacamole. I suspect that in this cafe is delicious just about everything that is on the menu. Later I looked into the bookstore in the hope of buying a book that T. recommended, but it was not available. Then I asked consultant No. 1 to show the most popular books among buyers. All three are by: a pamphlet about an obscure filmmaker, a speculative anarchist science fiction novel, and another book I have already read. It was decided to change the consultant. Number 2 gave me Hilton Els' White Girls "and added:" I think everyone should read this book. It is about the variability of life, weirdness and love. " According to the description - super.
For the purity of the experiment, I attracted a third adviser - a woman who studied the assortment of the shelf nearby. She carefully examined the books selected by both consultants, and focused on the “White Girls”. I sighed with relief. At the checkout, consultant No. 1 seemed disappointed to me, perhaps because I decided that I had neglected his choice.
With a new book under my arm, I went to the Palace of the Legion of Honor, which turned out to be a pretty museum of fine art. As usual, I prostorala a lot of time in front of the paintings of the Impressionists and thought to listen to an organ concert, but I realized that, it seems, caught a cold. I did not find the strength to ask someone for a recommendation for dinner and went to a Thai place nearby. A bowl of noodle soup seemed like a necessity. Strictly adhering to the rules of the experiment in such a state was particularly difficult, so I asked the waiter to recommend the noodle soup. From the endless list in the menu, he chose two options, I cheated and I myself decided which one would be final. I did not agree to anything else. After dinner, I had a long bus ride back to Auckland.
Champions Breakfast
fifth day
The puzzle of the day: I stay at V.’s house and don’t know what to do, I don’t have the right to decide myself, but I don’t want to go out without a clear plan. So I sat in the apartment all morning until the stomach began to reduce hunger, and only then I went in search of an oracle. At the corner of the store, a group of guys was smoking, and I wondered if it was worth going to Berkeley Climbing Hall. They obviously did not understand what I want from them, and recommended to go to the recently renovated ice rink in the next quarter. It is called "Iceland". Googling this place, I fell into despondency. Instead of a park painted with bright graffiti (as I imagined), I saw an ice rink. In addition, Yelp reported that it is now closed - I sincerely hoped that I did not lie. Deciding to take time, I asked the seller from the store to advise what I should have for breakfast. "Pancakes?" he suggested. "Where to go after them?" - I retorted. “Well, I go to iHop,” said the salesman, and I immediately felt a trick. In the hope that I heard it wrong, I asked again: "Once again, what is the name of this place?" - "iHop. It's inside the pharmacy supermarket, but there are other cafes in the area if you want non-pancakes."
It was already far past noon, I wondered whether to skip breakfast and go straight to dinner. But this decision for me had to make someone else. To hell, go to iHop. There I asked the waitress to make an order for me, but in order that it necessarily included pancakes. She issued a standard set of questions: "How to cook eggs? Bacon or sausage? What will you drink?" I shook my head and repeated: "Decide for yourself." She was surprised, but agreed.
On my table are pancakes, scrambled eggs and pancakes. Attached to them - check it out - one piece of bacon and one piece of sausage. There is also orange juice. I mastered only half of all this, I ate too much and almost immediately felt nausea rising. Tomorrow cost me almost $ 20. I do not understand why people go here. But there is some good news: V. said that the rink was converted into a sports shop, so I am going to the climbing wall. Given my little thing about hippie guys with long hair, this is the perfect place to carry out the next mission - to find a stranger who will help me choose who to invite for a date.
While I was waiting for the bus, I asked the woman if she should take a climbing lesson if my wrist was still not restored after the injury. "An interesting question," - she said, and advised to look at the situation. Noticing that the stranger is not averse to chatting, I asked for another tip: "What time do I have to go to bed today?" "Oh, well, let's say at half past ten," the woman laughed. Well, it was decided.
At the climbing gym, I was pretty quickly tired, although I did elementary things. I tried to choose a potential candidate for a date, but I felt uncomfortable - everyone around was so focused on climbing. The longer it went, the more I began to doubt my intentions. Suddenly a girl approached me, she was looking for a partner for climbing. At first I refused her, referring to fatigue, but quickly changed my mind. She looked cool, lively and a bit strange - in short, the perfect assistant for my mission. I asked if she was ready to choose with whom I should go on a date, if I became her climbing partner.
"But why?" exclaimed the stranger. For the first time ever, someone asked why I was doing all this, and I decided to improvise. She said that she came to the city for a short time and decided to try something new. At first she refused, but we continued to chat, and her fighting spirit gradually faded away.
For some time we did, and then began to look around the gym in search of interesting candidates. She pointed to the guy with glasses (she likes to wear glasses), I looked closer - and then she drooped down. He was not at all to my taste. A new acquaintance clearly heard the disappointment in my voice when I tried to clarify the final decision. She looked around and chose another guy - he was going to the locker room: "What do you think about this? He has great hair."
From this distance, the guy looked cute, and I decided that he was the same. We did a little more exercise, and then I went to track down my victim. He rested on the bench, headphones in his ears. "Ask him now?" - I consulted with a new friend and immediately became nervous. Everything was not as simple as I thought. The longer I braved myself, the more nervous I was. Stepping on my fears, I sat down next to him. She told me that she came to San Francisco for a couple of days and invited me to drink coffee or something stronger. "Hmmm," muttered the guy; it seemed that he was about to give me a turn from the gate. Однако, к моему удивлению, он согласился. Мы еще немного поболтали, выбирали, куда и когда пойдем, и обменялись СМС с намеченным планом. "Не ожидала, что всё получится", - поделилась я восторгами со своей партнершей по скалолазанию. Я правда очень удивилась. Если всё действительно так просто, то я хочу всё время звать незнакомцев на свидания! "Совсем с ума сошла", - воскликнула она в ответ.
Оставалась еще одна вещь, которую нужно было решить до конца дня. At the exit from the climbing wall, I asked the woman what time I would get up tomorrow. She made a decision instantly - at 7:30. In the evening I read until half past ten, as agreed, and instantly fell asleep.
Emotional disaster
sixth day
Morning in San Francisco is cold and gray. I woke up at 7:30. It’s hard to get up so early if you don’t have a good reason for it, so I stared at the phone until eight. Early in the morning I met at a coffee shop with my acquaintance from a climbing wall yesterday. My drink is traditionally chosen barista. To the question about preferences, I replied: "Something simple," and I received cold tea. Hooray!
My new friend turned out to be gay! Surprise. From a conversation with him, I learned the following: his boyfriend recently broke his collarbone during body surfing; Mark Zuckerberg has a glass office because he has nothing to hide; all boy scouts are pyromaniac. In general, we had a nice chat, and he went home to meet the cleaning lady. I have a new friend, but with the search for a lover, I screwed up.
A couple of hippies in a coffee shop advised me to eat before work, but not to chew while doing any work, and generally begin to practice a conscious diet. A sandwich for dinner was chosen by a stranger, and the barista decided for me what time to go to bed today. He specified what plans I had for the day, and ordered me to go to bed at 11 pm. By eating a sandwich with beets, I approached the most consciously.
After lunch, I took the train to San Francisco and decided to do what I could not on the very first day of the experiment - ask a fellow traveler what I should do on a trip. Now, conversations with strangers have become commonplace for me. Asking a question to a serious man with an insinuating voice, I was calm as a boa. He wondered how far I was going, calculated how long it would take, and finally made a verdict - listen to music.
A friend lingered, and I went to the boutique to try on a straps top. On his chest was a pocket from which a rabbit was peeking. I tried on white and black tops and asked the consulting girl to choose which one to buy. "A tough decision!" - She said. Still would. “That's why I asked,” I insisted. The consultant liked white, but for a long time she did not dare to say that she needed this particular top. So I began to doubt whether it is correct to even ask the seller to choose a purchase for me.
Together with my friend, we went to a coffee shop, where in the last days I had already been remembered. In response to the standard request “order a drink for me,” the barista remarked: “I’m still not used to such freedom.” He made me a special drink called "Africano". Delicious, but I can not stand the coffee and I can drink a maximum of half a glass. From caffeine pins me so that I want to run across the ceiling. Later, I wandered through the Beat Museum and talked to the bookseller. He recommended me Diana Di Prima's Hipster's Memoirs, a funny and frank book to read on the road, and I bought it. We discussed poetry, literature, and San Francisco, and when his shift ended, he gave me a tour of the area.
In the evening, I reached Chinatown in search of dinner. A pensive man from a gastronomic shop advised me to a Chinese restaurant in the next block. When I realized that almost all of its visitors are white and this is most likely not a very good sign, it was too late. The waiter was already pondering over the request to place an order for me: something tasty, but not too expensive. He brought noodle soup and wonton with beef - nothing special, but I was pleased.
After dinner, we met with A. and went for a drink. At first they took a beer in a pizzeria, and then moved to a bar, famous for being a bartender, who is hampered by an excellent specialty cocktail, nobody knows what exactly. We talked to the dark. I knew that it was time to go back to Auckland to go to bed at 11 pm (as I was told), but this was my last evening in San Francisco, and it is unknown when I will see A. next time. any stranger cancel hang up at eleven? I decided to consult with the bartender, who a minute earlier opened a giant bottle of vodka. He thought and said: "Drink another cocktail." So it's nice, I had enough time to get to Auckland and pack my bag in the morning.
The evening was in full swing. I drank another mysterious cocktail, and A. and I became reminiscent of the times when we had just arrived in New York. On the way to the subway, it was as if I had been struck by lightning: tomorrow morning I was leaving my beloved friends from New York and San Francisco to a place I had never been before. I do not know anyone there, and I have nowhere to stop. I bit my lip and sobbed. A. tried to calm me down, everything seemed to be turned upside down, and it only made me feel worse and worse. In the sky through the fog, the moon was white. "Tomorrow evening in Vancouver, you look up and see the same moon," said A. In response, I roared like a beluga.
When I finally calmed down, it was quite late. The last train to Auckland was about to leave, and my friends were already sure to go to bed. I could go to their home, and could stay with A. in San Francisco and sit in the morning on the first train. Naturally, I did not know what to do. A. insisted that I decide myself, but I just could not do it. Then I gathered up my courage and went to look for someone with whom I could consult.
For obvious reasons, there are almost no people on the street on Tuesday night, but I noticed a team of workers repairing the road and went to them. I explained my dilemma and asked a question to two men standing on the other side of the road. They called the others and made a vote. “I vote for this guy,” one of the workers pronounced the verdict and pointed at A. “I hope your relationship will move to the next level today.” I spent the night at A., but, no, we didn’t sleep.
Wrong Way
seventh day
I woke up early in the morning. Getting out of bed, getting dressed and dragging in the dark to the subway to get to Auckland, to pack a suitcase and go on the road again - it all seemed like torture. I did not have the strength - either physically or morally. I could hardly contain my tears when I said goodbye to V. in Auckland. The next minute, I sat down in Uber and burst into tears. The driver tensed. "Well, why are you crying!" - he tried to calm me down and advised me to take a taxi directly to the airport, specifying that I would spend only $ 10 more than I had planned. I didn’t want to argue and was unable to make any decision on my own, so I just allowed him to take me to the airport. "I have never met such sensitive people like you," said the taxi driver. He wondered if this was the first time I was going to an unfamiliar place all alone. In response, I laughed and told me that I had traveled half the world alone. And even hitchhiked in countries whose language I don’t speak. In general, I'm not that sensitive and certainly not weak. However, this morning I could not hold back tears. We drove over the bridge, which offers a magnificent view. "What is this bridge?" - I decided to ask, and I did not like the answer.
We went to the wrong airport. My plane took off from Auckland, and the driver drove me back to San Francisco and we were already in the middle of the bridge. When I finally explained to the taxi driver what his mistake was, I was ready to drop everything. To spit on studying in Vancouver, because it was so easy to stay in the USA. I could start a new life in San Francisco, go back to New York, or just travel. My original plan seemed like a big mistake. “Drive to Vancouver,” the driver advised. “It's very clean and Canadians are nice people, you'll like it.” I was again too weak to resist.
The trip did not come cheap, but I got to the airport on time and got on a plane. As soon as we took off, the stewardess approached me with a standard question: "What will you drink?" At that moment, I realized that I could not allow someone to make decisions for me. I will not suffer if everything goes out of control again. "Tea," I asked, and it was strange and pleasant, as if I woke up after a long sleep.
Afterword
I read the Beatnik Memoirs at the airport while I was waiting for my Canadian visa. The consultant from the book did not lie - this is really a funny and frank book, sometimes even, it would be more correct to say pornographic. On the last day of the experiment, I was going to ask strangers to make very important decisions for me. Where can I stay in Vancouver? Should I prolong the prolonged period of abstinence, or what will be? I was not ready for the whirlwind of madness that swept through my life in the last two days. Has he become a consequence of letting strangers make decisions for themselves? I have no idea.
Over the past seven days, I asked 38 strangers for advice, spent more money than I should, and made some unexpected friends. Letting other people think and decide for you is both pleasant and hard. It unties you hands and at the same time limits. I think I will continue to ask for advice from strangers, especially when traveling (but I’ll definitely do the orders at restaurants myself). As a result of this experiment, I did not become more decisive. Any major decision still makes me terrified. I still doubt whether it was a good idea to move to Vancouver and begin my studies. But now I know that if everything goes wrong again, I can rely on fate and ask for advice from another stranger.