Being “That Guy”

I have a running joke with my siblings. In 2018, I took a one-week trip to London with some college friends. Upon returning home, I sat with my family, flipped through pictures, and told the bits of story behind them.

I was already becoming the nomadic black sheep of the family by these days.

Dreadfully self-aware of the potential obnoxiousness that sometimes accompanies travel tales, I decided to have a little fun with it. Any time I started an anecdote, I would preface it in a haute voice with “When I lived in London…” I didn’t live in London. I was there for a week. Nonetheless, my siblings would laugh, roll their eyes, and give me grace because, well, that’s what family is best at.

The London joke persists to this day when my siblings and I travel for any reason. Whether in New York for a football game or in Denver for a hiking trip, if there’s a tale to be told, there’s a good chance it starts with “When I lived in __________…” A perfect deflection from the reality of telling a story from the road.

Strange? This is pretty tame in terms of weirdness between my siblings and me. Yet, this piece isn’t about my inter-fraternal dynamics. I only reference this silly nonsense joke to prove that, even within our closest circles, relaying sagas from the road is tough.

It’s not because they’re uninteresting either. It’s because they inherently require context. Context requires details. Details require more attention. And more attention… Well, that’s the last resource anyone wants to give up. Roll that into the contemporary motives behind sharing in today’s social media age, and we arrive at the Storyteller’s Impasse.

The Storyteller’s Impasse

We all have that friend who ties every conversation back to their semester spent studying in Madrid during college or even the two-week trip they took to Machu Picchu four years ago. The slightest mention of a pre-dinner snack will trigger a monologue on a remarkable night out eating tapas, and the word “hike” a signal for an in-depth five-night account of navigating the Inca Trail.

There are many telltale signs someone has inadvertently run into the Storyteller’s Impasse, and in this example lies the first one:

Just like advice, unsolicited stories are uncool stories.

Recognizing interest (and timing for that matter) is important when relaying personal tales. There are moments when your account of floating the Mediterranean caves off the coast of Greece is more appropriate than others. Talking amongst friends about recent holiday antics? Sure. At the office and someone lightly mentions a desire to visit Europe? Probably not an invite to start a non-sequitur about your grotto odyssey. Again, it’s not the telling of the tale that is wrong, rather it’s the tale’s relevance to the ongoing conversation.

A good portion of what makes an event memorable when away is context too. Where you are, who you’re with, the cultural norms of a community, and even what happened right before the very narrative being told. Context is what makes an average trip to the grocery store in Brazil worthy of a memory—the external environment feeds into the narrative we recall. To build context, we need details, but the overuse of details can also lead us to the Storyteller’s Impasse.

I am especially familiar with this one. My brain makes even the most minute information a part of the story setting. I may tell you about the absurd time I hosted a group of international clowns in Salta, Argentina, for their annual convention. Need I mention that I was sipping yerba maté as it happened? Or that I was sleep-deprived from an unexpected night out at the local folk restaurant the evening before? Certainly not.

An inclusion of extraneous detail calls into question the overall motive behind storytelling in the first place. Among friends, it can be an essential piece to the ongoing conversation and relationship-building taking place day after day. We build community on the foundation of diverse backgrounds and exchange histories as a sort of social currency. It’s the filling of each others’ experiential buckets.

I enjoy learning about everything in my close ones’ lives from their own unique travel adventures to ordinary life updates to extraordinary professional feats; just as I also believe they relish listening to a colorful rendition of my surprise Chilean disco night.

Social media also provides us with a platform to share adventures. Isn’t that storytelling? I think so. In a more graphic, less reciprocal manner. But if the exchange of stories is supposed to build relationships through reciprocation, then why post it? Regardless if it’s the primary or last reason, I’d argue we all do share there for a bit of attention. I know I do.

Humans crave each other’s attention and equally have a hard time giving it back.

That is the main dichotomy within the Storyteller’s Impasse. Understanding it brings an awareness we can use to avoid it: Learning to squash social media’s incentive to call attention to ourselves without interaction. Pivoting to sharing for the sake of building connection. And understanding how to use the attention we do receive to effectively communicate a genuinely badass experience.

Regale the Tale

There will almost always exist obstacles to conveying travel sagas in a meaningful way once home. However, here are a few loose guidelines that can help avoid taking a shortcut straight to the Storyteller’s Impasse.

• Unsolicited stories are uncool stories.

• You just came off an awesome vacation. Surfing, zipline, beach jigs, and total refreshment. How can you not be bursting to tell any and everyone? I get it. I just spent almost a year traveling by myself. Experiencing one awe-inspiring moment after another without close friends and family can get exhausting and frustrating. Anthony Bourdain describes it as having a tasty meal alone—devoid of sharing an experience, it can feel devalued. This phenomenon can also make the first time back together with those loved ones a powder keg of dialogue hardly requiring a spark. But hold on to your stories. They will ask about it. Trust me. Those who care will remember you went and they will ask. And those are the ones willing to invest time and energy in asking fulfilling and thoughtful questions in return.

• Focus on the details that contribute. Forget the rest.

• The best storytellers say the most with the least words.