Future Ryan is kind of a dick. He’s constantly complaining to me, Present-Day Ryan, that I never think about him. Just whining and griping that I need to think about the future and Future Ryan. Future Ryan thinks he’s holier than thou. He’ll tell Present-Day Ryan things like “You really shouldn’t eat week-old Chinese food for breakfast again” or “Maybe you should invest your money instead of spending it on liquid poison” or “You need to stop having sex without… socks on.”
Future Ryan
The guy is a real pain in my ass.
No matter what I do, it seems like he’s never satisfied.
Well, buddy boy, I’m writing this post for you. So that whether it’s 3 months or 3 years from now you can whip out your iPhone 17 and show off this blog to save yourself from having the same conversation for the 100th time.
Let the painful small talk commence
It has recently been brought to my attention that I have to go home soon. Like, a-month-from-today-soon. A realization that is not exactly registering just yet.
As this inevitable reality continues to work its way through my incredibly thick skull, I’ve also started having visions of my return home.
These aren’t good visions of home, either. These aren’t visions of home things I’m excited about like family and friends and New England girls in white pants and buffalo chicken calzones.
No no. These are horrific visions. Visions of painfully awkward small talk with dozens, if not hundreds of people who could not care less about my trip, but are too polite not to ask something.
After traveling around the world for a year I know exactly what they’re going to ask before they even know themselves. And it’s not their fault, really. They can’t help it. It’s just the obvious first question for someone who recently returned from visiting in 15+ countries over the course of a year.
“What was your favorite country?”
My solemn vow
At the very least, I can promise you this…
I will not punch anyone in the face who asks this question.
I know, I know. It’s incredibly thoughtful of me. I like to think that during this year of travel I have become a more understanding and patient person; someone who doesn’t physically assault people when they ask stupid questions.
While I can promise you that no punches will be thrown, I can NOT promise you that won’t angrily blurt out, “Shut your dirty little mouth!” and storm out of the room, violently slamming the door so hard in disgust that the framed black and white photo of your grandparents on their wedding day hanging above the peephole comes crashing to the ground and shatter in a million pieces.
That, I can’t promise.
A simple solution
To hopefully help mitigate this entire situation, I’ve taken the time to pull together a few sample templates of small talk conversations to avoid when you see me upon my return.
These don’t necessarily exhaust all the possibilities, but they should give you a pretty solid idea of some of the do’s and don’ts. If you happen to find yourself in one of these situations and realize you’re in too deep, use the safe word “snuffle berries” and turn and walk away. I’ll understand what’s happening and we’ll never speak of the situation again.
The Office Elevator
In exactly one month I have to go back to a real office. If you know anything about office life, it’s that the elevator is a vile cesspool of painful small talk.
Coworker: Hey! What are you doing here? Visiting for the day?
Me: I work here.
Coworker: Wow, awkies… I guess I just haven’t seen you in a while… ha ha
Me: Yeah, I’ve been out of the country for the last year.
Coworker: Ohh my god! That’s right. I heard about that! You were traveling around the world, right? I thought you just quit. I wish I could do that (laughs nervously)
Coworker (very serious): Don’t tell anyone that.
Me: Nope, I’ve just been working remotely.
Coworker: That’s amazing! Where?!
Me: All over the place. Croatia, Czech Republic, Spain, Bulgaria, Serbia, Morocco, Argentina, Peru, Colombia and just got back from South America.
Coworker: Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! LOVEEEEEE Prague. Tell me you loved Prague! I can’t believe you went there. I visited my cousin when she studied abroad in Prague. Did you go to the Lennon Wall?! I love the Lennon Wall.
Me: Yup, I spray painted the Lennon Wall…
(elevator stops at every possible floor to pick-up or let people off. We’re the last two remaining. Now in silence…)
Coworker: Sooooo, what was your favorite country…?
Any Boston Bar
Boston is a pretty small town. It’s almost impossible to walk into a local bar without running into someone you went to school with.
College bro (yelling): BROOOOO! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, MY DUDE?! HOW HAVE YOU BEEN???
Me: Not much, man. Just getting back from some traveling.
College bro (still yelling): DUDEEEE! I SAW THAT ALL OVER INSTAGRAM. IT LOOKED SO SICK. WHERE DID YOU GO?
Me: I moved to a different city every month, so 5 in Europe, Morocco, handful in South America and then just finished up in Mexico City.
College bro (slapping me on the back): GUYYY! You must’ve got with so many foreign girls. Let’s do a shot together, my treat.
Me: Sure, thanks. And nahh, it’s not that easy when you don’t speak the language.
College bro (raising volume again): Bro, don’t lie to me, bro. I bet you did.
(waiting for bartender to take order)
College bro (hit bro quota and is out of things to say): Soooo, what was your favorite country…?
Hometown
I’m very excited to be home and see my family in the town I grew up in. Their friends will be very curious about what I’ve been up to.
Generic suburban mom: Ryan! Hi! It’s so good to have you back. We missed seeing you at the holidays this year.
Me: Yeah, I was bummed not to be able to come back home.
Generic suburban mom: We absolutely loved keeping up with your travels through the blog.
Me: Well, thank you!! You were probably one of my 8 readers.
Generic suburban mom: Seriously, you’re such a good writer. All of our friends read your blogs to start book club each week. You’re so funny!
Me: I’ll probably write about the conversation we’re having right now, to be honest.
Generic suburban mom: Oh no! Don’t do that. I don’t want to end up on the Internet. You must have some better material.
Me: No, seriously. I’m going to.
Generic suburban mom: Ugh, fine. Just promise me you won’t use my name.
Me: Okay…
Me: Pam…
(Realizes I’m dead serious)
Pam: Sooooo, what was your favorite country…?
Choose your questions wisely
There are probably dozens of other small talk scenarios just like this one that I’m bound to run into when I get back to Boston. Like I said, I promise not to punch anyone if they ask, “What was your favorite country?”
But, this blog is for Future Ryan, and he will be printing it out single-spaced, size 10, Helvetica Neue font on an 8×11 sheet of paper to hand to anyone brave enough to ask the question to my face.
P.S. I honestly don’t have a favorite country or city. It’s impossible to choose. Would be like picking a favorite child.