How do you feel when you’re alone? Are you self-conscious and painfully aware that you are friendly? Can you imagine people wondering why you’re standing there alone? Do your attempts to come across as a thoughtful, freelancer, rather than a walk-on stunner, come across as contrived and make you cringe? Perhaps the following true stories will change the way you approach awkward moments.
On the eve of my twelfth birthday, while on a glorious vacation in Florida, my older brother, Jim, observed me at the local teen club staring at my toes and writhing in conscious agony. Unfortunately, I was completely ignored by the rest of the happy group of children.
He asked, “What’s up, Fatsinello?” (He was so skinny that calling me Fat was a big brother joke.) Ha ha.
With a sigh, I replied, “Nothing.”
Jim, with his usual perceptiveness, said, “Go find the loneliest person in the room, walk up to them and say ‘Hi’.” He nodded to a girl who was drinking a Coke at a distant table.
“Go say hi,” he ordered.
The walk to her table was exciting in anticipation of utter public humiliation, as my three brothers had set it up a million times before for their comedic entertainment.
The girl stared at me like a frightened rabbit and twisted her stiff head. She surprised me a bit, “Hello.”
Like a double rainbow after a dark storm, her smile was beautiful. His shoulders slumped, he laughed and said that he didn’t know anyone here. I looked back at Jim, who was wearing his smug “I told you so” expression, but he seemed pleased too. The girl and I were the best of friends during my vacation in Florida, and thanks to her, I had a lot of fun. With a friend by my side, I came alive, was funnier, more daring, danced at the club and even got semi-hypnotized by the visiting magician.
I had another chance to try the “Just say hello” technique. She was working for Emmy Award winner Alexander Singer as his assistant at a Directors Dialogue held at the Directors Guild of Los Angeles. My job was to help out during meetings and nervously invite directors, including Warren Beatty, to attend meetings. I also received a special benefit: a one-way ticket to a workshop on the Queen Mary Ocean Liner.
I arrived at seven in the morning with the hope that a ship full of directors would discover me. I listened to various lectures and watched some movies and then everyone gathered in the large dining room for lunch. Most of the people were men and they seemed to know each other well. They quickly grouped together and filled the tables. I felt self-conscious and a bit like the last one standing during musical chairs. Then, I saw a pretty woman sitting alone at a table near the podium and remembered “Just say hi.” She was looking at her place and seemed lost in her private thoughts.
“Hello,” I offered.
As if awakened, she looked at me. She was exotically beautiful and her silky black hair moved when she turned her head. Her slight smile was welcoming and she gave me permission to join her. After thirty minutes I had fully recovered from my last man standing crisis and she and I were chatting easily and intimately as only strangers often can. She began to reveal to me her concern for her sick father and she spoke of “Jack” several times. I nodded sympathetically, still faking my way since I had no real connection to anyone in the room.
The guest speaker was then introduced and slowly walked to the podium. He was wearing a navy blue velor tracksuit and looked frail and bony. He talked about his father, Walter, and a lifetime of experiences making movies. Many times, John Houston stopped to cough and try to catch his breath. But he would get back on his feet and start over. The audience was hanging on his every word and the applause was deafening followed quickly by a standing ovation. Mr. Houston waved good-bye and escaped the crowd of directors who crowded around him to touch his tall body or shake his trembling hand.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” my new friend said.
I followed her tall, slender figure down the long corridors deep into the private apartments of the Queen Mary, away from the noise and the crowds with no idea where we were going. He opened the door to an ornately decorated stateroom, where our speaker, John Houston, sat on the sofa, his jacket unbuttoned to reveal a thin white T-shirt. I instantly knew who he had been talking about for the last hour. Simultaneously, I broke the tip of my high heel and stumbled into the cabin. Always ready to make a grand entrance, I have learned to laugh easily and amuse myself with my embarrassing moments. We all laughed together as I picked up my broken heel.
“Give it to me,” the deep, gravelly voice said.
Mr. Houston reached out with his big hand for my shoe. Here I am in John Huston’s cabin with his beautiful daughter Anjelica and the greatest director of our time fiddling with my shoe. He coughed harder and for longer now that he was in private rooms. Anjelica’s face showed her every emotion of worry, adoration, and anguish as her father gasped to catch her breath. I wondered briefly what an elegant lady like this saw in Jack Nicholson, knowing little about him at the time, except the bad press from her and the sadness from her that even mentioning her name caused him. The older Houston would quickly regroup after his cough, start taunting us, sparring, alternating critical comments with amusing, hard jabs in a way that we laughed off and just enjoyed. I was missing the workshop, but I could have cared less. Surprisingly, after several knocks on the coffee table, John Houston even fixed my shoe. Eventually, Mr. Houston said that he needed to rest, and Anjelica whispered that he would see me later.
I joined the group of directors and media at the next workshop. What would either of them have given to be invited into the private world of superstar Anjelica Houston and her famous father? To this day, I am surprised that it was. No director discovered me that day, but I did discover a fascinating man and his daughter. I also learned that when shyness or feelings of shyness threaten to overwhelm you, just say “Hello” and a whole new world can open up to you.
(wireimage.com)
