I’m sitting in the cushy chair at the coffee shop, flipping through my stack of stick figure drawings.
“Hey, would you comment on my picture?” I ask the lady next to me.
“Pardon me?” she asks in confusion. This is the first time in the experiment that someone truly thinks I’m crazy. I venture a smile, but I think it makes this worse.
“Uh, nothing,” I respond. I’m too nervous to pull this off. I think she can sense the impending awkwardness, so she scurries away as I pop in my head phone and engage in a Twitter conversation. Maybe asking people to comment on my pictures was a bit much. Or maybe by “pictures” I needed to choose photographs instead of stick figures and cartoon sketches.
A few minutes later, a man sits down next to me. “Hey, would you comment on my pictures?” I ask him.
“Like Facebook?” he asks.
“Yeah, just like it,” I respond.
“Where’s this?” he asks.
“It’s a picture of me at Flagstaff,” I explain.
“At the McDonald’s?”
“That’s not an m. That’s a bird,” I tell him.
“And that one?” he asks.
“That’s a picture of me taking a picture of myself in front of the mirror.”
“I hate when people do that. It’s too personal. It’s creepy,” he tells me.
“So, leave a comment about that.”
“Do I have to draw a box and write it out or can I say it out loud?”
“Out loud will work,” I respond.
“How’s this? ‘That stinks.’ Get it,” he laughs at himself and then says, “Well, I need to get to work.”
I decide at this point that it’s too awkward for me. Besides, no one on Facebook comments on a stranger’s picture anyway. So, I rethink this approach altogether. I decide to sketch out new pictures and mail them out to friends. I’m hoping for a comment better than, “That stinks.”