Jar of Pickles

When I was at UW, I lived at Hansee Hall for a couple of years. I loved having a single room. I loved the quirkiness of that dorm and the people who lived in it.

There was a guy there, I can't remember his name - Max? Mark? Maybe John?

I thought he was bonkers. Turned out, he was just slightly eccentric.

John could be found doing normal things at odd hours. Or the other way around. He would play soccer by himself in the middle of the night. Or he would watch the sci-fi channel in the common room, muttering something incoherent. Or he would be marching outside, in the night, in the rain, while singing very loudly in German. An acquaintance of mine said "Oh, don't worry, John is a really nice guy, just slightly unusual." I wasn't too worried - until the police came to talk to this John guy (I don't know why) - but I figured it wouldn't hurt to keep some distance.

I would never have known that he was, indeed, a genuinely nice guy, if it wasn't for pickles.

I get terrible cravings for pickles every once in a blue moon. What's worse than not having any pickles? Having a whole big jar of pickles that you can't open! 

So I wondered out into the common room, and John was sitting right there, watching something on TV and muttering to himself. So I risked it - went up to him and asked for help in my most polite voice. It took him a few moments to process what must have been a pretty weird request.

No, we did not become best buddies or share deep dark secrets. But from then on, we would smile and nod to each other, we would chat in the common room, and it just... felt good. To have an opportunity to get to know another human being, to have the chance to move them from the "weirdo I better stay away from" category to "nice guy with interesting opinions".

I do wonder if he remembers the weird girl who asked him to open a jar of pickles :)