I met ten or twelve new people this week. There were a three or four at the theatre where I volunteer, three at a local microbrewery pub, and a handful at birthday dinner at a friend's house. These people weren't new to the world, and in some cases, they were much older than I. Everyone had been around the block a couple times. In each case, I pretty much had the same introduction--I smiled, shook their hands, told them my name and listened. While that sounds simple enough, it really takes much more tact and patience than most ever fathom.

Everyone has a story. In fact, everyone has hundreds of stories. Some poignant, some pointless, some funny, some impressive. And they all like to relive their moments through storytelling. Being a writer, I'm usually interested in what interests other people, for the sociological aspects if nothing else. It became quite clear this week that by listening to the stories of new people, I transformed myself from stranger to decent guy in the matter of five minutes.

When I say listen, I don't mean quietly waiting for my turn to talk. People can see through this rather quickly. Especially if you take a tiny piece of what someone says, and use it to start your own grandiose tale. "You said something about bunnies a little while back, and that reminds me of the this Easter when we got really drunk and yelled at Jesus..." People love to tell stories about drunken or hallucinated adventures, and if you sit patiently and listen, you become bonded to the folks as if you were there that night.

I don't sit silently while I listen to other people's tales. I've been known to interject a few exclamations like "Right," "Really," "How do you mean?" and "That's crazy." People like it when you comment on their tales. It shows you're interested in what they are saying. Before these people know it, they have a captive audience of me, and they treat me like an old friend before they can remember my name is Chris.

I listened to a guy talk about the bizarre electrical jobs he has contracted, two girls gab about getting grossly overcharged at a restaurant in Barcelona, Spain, a guy and a girl split a story about how they took mushrooms and drove all over town trying to maintain. People talked about their jobs, they talked about their relationships, they talked about what they watch on television. There are no boundaries to the types of conversations I listen to. Even when I'm at a loss for who the characters are and what the purpose of the tale is, I'll listen and try to figure out why the story is so dear to them.

Why do I listen so intently to the random tales of strangers? It's really a comfort thing. For whatever reason, we are in the same place at the same time for basically the same reason. It might be that we know the same people, we like the same band, we have the same aspirations, or we want to get drunk in public at the same time. Of course, even more important than our chance meeting, there is still an ulterior motive. If I listen to their stories, they just might listen to me when I have something to say. Again, this sounds simple, but it really isn't.

I met at least ten people this week, and I have no idea if or when I'll see these people again. No matter if it's days, months, years or never again, there will always be the memory that we hung out somewhere for a brief amount of time and talked, and we're all a decent sort of folk.

You never know who you will connect with, so it helps to keep meeting more and more people. It helps to listen. It helps to try and understand where everyone is coming from, and these same people might come back around and help you out in a time of need. All because you listened to them talk about some drunk night they had or some horrible job they endured. Before you know it, you're not a stranger and neither are they, and it's always good to talk to someone you know.

Chris Jungle is trying to hear it all before he goes deaf.