Weather or Not

Hooray for global-warming! Finally, chronic wallflowers like myself have something to talk about at parties! I mean, take the weather yesterday. It was blazing in the morning, what Jose would call earthquake weather--hot, dry and still, as if it was waiting for something to happen. I know I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Everyone out on the beach path seemed a little more tense than usual. But by the time we turned our bikes around to head home, the wind had turned around too, unfortunately not in our favor. Underneath the stifling warmth was the occasional waft of cool air, as if the seasonal weather was trying to fight it’s way through the oppressive dryness. By the time we got home it was chilly and windy. Weird weather. I’m telling this story to you and I’ll probably tell it to several other people before the day’s up. The weather is a hot topic of conversation right now.

When I first came here, I would use the weather as a means to start a conversation with someone I didn’t know. The weather is a traditional British icebreaker. Phrases such as, “Lovely day for the time of year,” and, "Looks a bit like rain today,” could be used with passersby as a polite extension to the basic hello, which can come across as curt or unfriendly if it isn’t quickly followed by a remark.

“‘Morning.”
“'Ow do.”
“Turned nice.”
“Weatherman got it wrong again.”

This would be a typical exchange between two Yorkshiremen whose paths had crossed on a typical morning. It’s not exactly a conversation, but it’s friendlier than your basic nod of the head-type greeting.

I can’t say I was ever specifically taught to do this—it’s one of those unwritten rules of etiquette—but I learned it at an early age, carried it into adulthood and brought it with me when I immigrated. It’s tricky to use in Southern California. Until the rains hit, assuming they do, there isn’t much one can say, except, “Nice day again.” But after a while, people begin to stare at me as if I am deranged. Of course it’s a nice day again, that is why most of us live here. Finally, someone explained to me that it’s considered almost rude to talk about the weather—a sure sign that you have nothing to talk about. I thought that was the whole point. I do have nothing to talk about with people I don’t know. The weather is a nice safe topic, general and not too personal.

British people, as a general rule don’t ask personal questions. At least that’s the way I was brought up. So with the weather eliminated from my repertoire of small talk, I have no option but to stand in a corner at parties, clutching my drink and grinning inanely until someone takes a chance and comes over to interrogate me. Even if I’m too British to ask questions, I’m perfectly happy to answer them.

But now, there’s lots to talk about—spring on the East Coast in January, snow in Santa Monica—every day there’s a new weather phenomenon to use as a springboard for a conversation. No more need to pry into a person’s professional or marital status—always dangerous areas if you ask me—now I can jaw all day about rising sea levels, melting ice caps and even about Polar Bears being added to the endangered species list. Hoorah!! What’s more, everyone’s doing it! People in line at the grocery store are talking about the recent cold front that swept through the state and killed off our lettuce plants. Fellow runners are griping about the heat, or the cold, or the rain, or the lack thereof. The weather is finally becoming a socially acceptable topic of conversation. Before you know it, people will be getting out of their SUVs to commune with their fellow man about shrinking lakes and erratic weather patterns. Thank goodness they’re only talking, though. If people actually start doing something about it, there’ll be nothing to talk about. And where will that leave me? Alone in the corner with my slowly melting ice cubes.

Of course, if we don’t act, there’ll be no-one to talk to anyway, but that’s a different conversation all together.