Sandy Supposes....

Humour to the rescue

PROMPT: So, uhhh, what do you do during awkward silences?

          It's probably more like what haven't I done during awkward silences... There have been times when I've missed the subtle nuances, the cues, and I've continued to babble. I ignored the non-response. I banished the possibility of silence. My own voice filled the void. Perhaps I thought I could carry the conversation myself until when, or if the other party decided to jump back in. Maybe something, anything would provoke, or entice.

          I'm capable of thinking fine, two can play this game, and then resorting to sulking, stubborn silence myself. I'm not wasting my breath.

         If I'm in a moving vehicle, scenery suddenly becomes my focus. An opportunity to shock may present itself, and over-power the lack of conversation. "Look! Did you see that purple moose next to the burning bush?" In a social setting, I study other people. "Is it just me, or is that big woman over there feeding morsels of her steak to her purse?" I look for excuses to speak. Probably, I rely on humour, my idea of humour.

         Years ago, during a particularly long period of freezing winter weather, many city vehicles visiting our Northern village refused to start. They were not equipped with engine block heaters. The process to restart them involved garaging the vehicles, and coaxing reluctant carburetors to accept methyl alcohol, a highly flammable material. My hubby was assisting local friends with several of these stranded drivers, when there was an accident. Too many people were involved, and miscommunication resulted. Hubby was the one pouring the methyl alcohol into a carburetor. Someone, a little too eager, turned the ignition key at that precise moment and created a spark. My husband erupted in flames, and so too did the car's owner.

         I arrived to meet the two burned men being loaded into an ambulance, and I hopped onboard. This was where I encountered an awkward silence/situation. Three of the passengers, two paramedics and the other wounded man, were strangers to me. Intimacy was out of the question. Anything I said in an effort to comfort and assure my partner was heard by the others. I could not touch him, he had painful burns. In a situation like that, all I have is words, but what to say? Was I annoying? Was I fearful? Was I compounding everything? My hubby rarely grunted. The paramedics bombarded me with questions when they weren't busy with driving, and first aid measures. The silence was heavy with dread.

         I reacted with one of my best defences, humour. When asked who the other burn victim was I replied that we hadn't had the pleasure of an introduction, but he was a bit of a mystery man with his mask of gauze, and his silent air. I joked that usually hubby and I were alone for our dates, and that this was not what I expected when he promised me a ride in a fast car. I also pointed out that the two chauffeurs were over kill. I reminded my spouse that this ambulance-ride competition with our son was getting out of hand. Both burned men had facial whiskers that were now smoking stubble, so I quipped that it was a drastic method to achieve a clean-shaven look.

         Awaiting treatment at the hospital, I finally and properly met Bob. This was supposedly his first serious accident/injury. He claimed that he worked as a safety advisor at a factory, and this would be difficult to explain, and live down. Of course, we thought of that ominous phrase, "Let's not meet by accident."