TKOG Who slaps you friggin’ five

NTKOG #194: The kind of embarrassingly over-friendly dude on the street who, filled with summer joy, goes in for the unsolicited stranger high-five.

I am: terrible at high fives. My reluctance always translates to insufficient high-five pressure, so I end up just kind of stroking the other person’s palm.

I am not: big on touching strangers even in normal contexts. Let alone  demanding you slap her five like someone’s nightmare of an uncle.

The Scene: Strolling through Cambridge after work, breeze summer playlist in my ears, joy in my heart. I was inspired to Mission: High Five by Kiss Ducker, who was approached for a stranger-five on the streets of Barcelona last week.

As I walked toward the Harvard Yard, spotted a dude my age walking alone. Picked up my pace and, a few feet away from him, “High five!” I grinned, putting my own hand out. “Uhhhhh, what?” he grunted as he walked toward me. Misfire.

On the next block, a middle-aged man walking alone, carrying an overloaded bookstore bag. Okay, sir! Gave it slightly more distance so he’d have time to react, then: “high five!” He gave a vague smile and raised his palm, but no significant follow through — my palm just pressed moistly into his. Good frig is that creepy. Is that what it feels like when I screw up a high five? (Nobody answer that.)

The next handful of attempts (pun noted but not intended) were actually pretty stellar: “High five!” I’d grin from five or six steps away, and dudes and ladies my age would, without hesitating, slap me a proper five, smiles on their faces.

After deeming it a success, decided to end the mission and grab dinner. As I crossed a crosswalk, though, saw a gentleman in one of those oubiquitous “Go Celtics, Beat LA (Again)” t-shirts. “GO CELTs!” I shouted; he high-fived me, hard, as he walked past and turned his head back in one fluid movement: “Windmill it!” and with nary a pause, extended my follow-through to a perfect Top Gun-style windmill high five.

I wanted to run after him, grab his sleeve and gush, “Dude! Dude! This is the only time I’ve ever been cool!” Instead, I grinned for three blocks and am, in fact, still grinning now.

The Verdict: My goodness, there’s nothing nicer than being a little extra-friendly to strangers in the summer! I’m always a fan of the beaming stranger-smile on the street, but this kicked it up a whole different level. The secret, it turns out, is choosing people who look engaged but who are not focusing on any thing in particular. And people who want to be happy, because random street camaraderie isn’t for dudes with heavy souls. Can’t say I’m going to become a serial high-fiver, but this single-handedly removed high-fivers from my “dorks not to lunch with” list ’cause, hey, maybe we can learn something from their joie de vivre.

Also, kittens, you know that breezy summer playlist I was talking about? Yeah, it’s exactly two songs long. “A Punk” by Vampire Weekend and “Summer’s Gone” by Aberfeldy. Can you please please please recommend me some non-emo, extremely breezy summer songs, possibly featuring very light reggae influence? The rest of my music all smells like burning leaves; it’s time to move on.

Tagged as: cambridge, cool, high-five, huge dork, i'm kind of the worst at high fives, just plain happy, the power of the excited high-five also made the upper crust girl punch the rest of my buy-ten-get-one slice card, top gun or 30 rock? immortal windmill-five question., two things boston does right: ice cream and sports camaraderies. two things it does wrong: humidity and OH MY GOD SERIOUSLY CHECK THIS FUCKING HUMIDITY, wow! acting happy really DOES make you happy!, yeah i go through buy-ten-get-one punch cards like blanche devereaux goes through bedfellows. don't judge. (and RIP rue.)