Last month, I, along with thousands of fellow Augustans, made my yearly pilgrimage to the Arts in the Heart of Augusta Festival. There, I soaked up culture, marveled over weaved baskets and ate meat on a stick.
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While I appreciate the rich international experience the festival brings to our town, (where else, after all, can a person catch the Edelweiss dancers and the Abastu African drummers?) the main reason I attend every year is for the countless opportunities to socialize.
This year my fiance, Maestro, and I arrived in the Global Food Village at 5 p.m., the height of the feeding frenzy. Germany and China were mobbed as usual, so we decided to be adventurous and check out less-congested Guam.
"Do you have meat on a stick?" I asked the counterperson.
"We have Na adotgan Babui," he replied.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Meat on a stick."
As Maestro and I made our way across the Augusta Common, happily noshing on our meat Popsicles, I saw a couple I knew. Instead of slowing, I passed right by without speaking
"I thought you knew those people?" Maestro asked.
"I do."
"So why didn't you say hello?"
"Because it's their turn to say hello first. I said hello first the last time I ran into them."
We walked along a little farther, and I grabbed Maestro's elbow and steered him in the other direction.
"Why the detour?" he asked.
"I see someone I know who I haven't seen in years."
""All the more reason to say hello," Maestro said.
"There'd be too much catching up to do," I explained. "I'd have to cover three jobs, two moves and one fiance."
As we pushed our way through the crowds, I reflected on the hierarchy of relationships most of us have with the people in our lives.
First, there are the people we recognize but know only well enough to exchange a nod but not a wave. Next are the people we wave at or say "hey" to - the "hey" indicating a relationship of slightly more depth. Then there are the people whom we're expected to stop and chat with for a few minutes, and might or might not rate a hug or a welcoming shriek. Finally, there are the people who we pretend not to see at all because an encounter with them would prove to be far too awkward; e.g., ex-boyfriends or girlfriends, gynecologists, proctologists and anyone who witnessed us tipsily dance the Funky Chicken at last year's Border Bash.
As I tossed my meat skewer into the trash, I literally bumped into someone who would normally fall into the "wave-but-don't-speak" category, but because of our accidental physical contact, the relationship was elevated to a stop-and-chat encounter.
"How's it going?"
"Good, you?"
A pregnant pause.
"Nice to see you."
"You too."
We both headed in opposite directions, unnerved by our uncustomary level of intimacy.
"Who was that?" Maestro asked.
"Someone I know but have absolutely nothing to say to."
Later, satiated by a year's worth of meat sticks and polka dances, my fiance and I finally trudged home. We were greeted at the door by my teenage son Brandon who quizzed us about the festival.
"So," he asked. "Did you see a lot of people you knew?"
Augusta writer Karin Gillespie is the author of Bet Your Bottom Dollar. Contact Ms, Gillespie in care of the Augusta Chronicle, P.O. Box 1928, Augusta, Ga 30903-1928, or at her website karingillespie.com
