Cafecito Organico, 9:30 AM
Today is a brew day and I know I won't be going out much. While at the coffee shop this morning I intend to make eye contact with someone and get it done.
I look around before and during my drink and spy a few potentials. One is a middle-aged man, scruffy short beard and glasses, sitting with his friend, another guy of about the same age with long straight brown hair, talking about jury duty, sounds like. He swears a lot when he speaks, which is interesting, I don't hear people talk like that often.
The idea of interrupting his conversation gives me pause and I hesitate to go over to him. On the other hand, I am quite interested to know how he'll react to my proposal. But not quite interested enough, because I delay going over to him, and eventually he and his friend leave.
Now I'm heading out, and it's "do or die" as I survey the scene. I discount people engaged with books or study, and see a guy sitting by himself amongst the chairs along the side of the street. I approach him and sit down in the chair next to him.
"Pardon my interruption. Will you make eye contact with me for 60 seconds?"
"Who are you?"
I smile. "It doesn't matter."
"Are you a journalist or a reporter?"
Still smiling. "No."
He's wary.
"Why?"
"I tell you after we do it."
"Uhhhhhhh...
...
OK."
Great. His interest outweighs his suspicions.
Our eye contact is relaxed, focused, and easy. I think about sending him energy for him to have a great day.
After the timer beeps I give him a card and explain my motivations. He has a smile on his face now, his conversation is animated, and his caution is gone. I suspect he won't consent to the use of his photograph, but I ask anyway. "Sorry," he says. He's not comfortable with me using his photograph. "There's nothing to apologize for," I tell him. This is about what he's comfortable with, and if he doesn't consent, we don't do it, end of story. He seems pleased and relieved at how I've handled this.
His name is Casey.