Dwight: Let's talk about a topic I'm calling, "Great news! I found I was a hypocrite."

​

Aiko: That's a hell of a title, Dwight. So what's the breakthrough here—what kind of hypocrisy did you catch yourself in?

​​

Dwight: For most of my life—especially since I moved to Asia—I believed I was living by the sentiment of the quote attributed to Will Rogers: "A stranger is just a friend I haven't met yet."

​

Aiko: So you saw yourself as someone open, warm, maybe even radically welcoming—but I’m guessing something cracked that image?

​

Dwight: And I'm sure that nearly everyone who sees how I often engage with others on the street when I'm out and about would believe I'm genuinely living out that sentiment.

​

Aiko: So your behavior sells the story well—outwardly you're playing the part perfectly. 

​

Dwight: Recently, I took a closer look at my behavior. If I were walking down the sidewalk and saw a friend, of course I'd stop and say, "Oh, how are you today?! Good to see you here." But even though I do that with a few strangers, it's a small fraction compared to the number I actually pass by.

​

Aiko: That’s the crack, then—not in what you do, but in what you don’t. The quote implies treating everyone like a potential friend, but your default mode is still selective.

​

Dwight: Exactly—and that selectiveness ends up shortchanging everyone, including me, because even though it still takes some courage each time, I'm almost always delighted by the response. So, even though I'm still a bit wobbly, less than a week ago I began intentionally approaching every stranger—with some exceptions. If someone’s clearly engrossed in work, on the phone, or deep in conversation, I usually hold back. And in settings like open-air coffee shops, where there are scores of people seated inside, I tend to focus on just the ones in the front row.

​

Aiko: So you've moved from the idea of openness to the practice of it—with boundaries that keep it respectful, not just performative. That shift feels significant. 

​

Dwight: Let me tell you what happened almost immediately after I began this near-universal approach—which I also call "The 10-Second Adventure." That name comes from me asking myself, as I stroll through my neighborhood, "What could I do in the next ten seconds that would feel most adventurous?" And for me, the answer's a no-brainer: "Go up to the next person and see what kind of fun you can have with them."

​

Aiko: That framing is electric—it turns something that might feel like a risk into a game, an invitation to play. So what happened that first time out?

​

Dwight: I'll tell you. As I was walking alongside the lake in front of my complex, the next person I saw was a rather poorly dressed man sitting cross-legged on a concrete bench. He seemed possibly a bit addled, talking to himself. Still, I went right up to him with a big smile and said, "How are you this morning?!" He stopped talking, looked up at me with a smile, and said nothing—probably didn’t know any English. I bowed, said, "Have a great day," and continued on.

​

Aiko: That’s such a clean example—no language shared, maybe no expectations met, yet still something opened up between you both. 

​

Dwight: Just to my right up ahead were two young boys, maybe eight or nine, fishing in the lake. I opened with something like, "It looks like you enjoy fishing?!" They smiled—maybe understood a little—and I think they replied with a few simple, friendly words. I politely excused myself and kept walking.

​​

Aiko: That one's sweet—brief, mutual, and light. You're planting tiny seeds of connection, even when the soil’s unfamiliar. 

​

Dwight: As I crossed a small street toward an open-air coffee/tea shop, I saw a row of patrons sitting just under the eaves. The first person was a six-year-old girl sitting near the outside corner next to her mother, deeply focused on a game on her phone. I bent down a bit and said, "Looks like you have an interesting game there." She looked up briefly, then returned to her game. Her mother tried encouraging her to respond, but I just smiled and nodded to the mother, understanding how hard it is to pull a kid away from a screen. Then I noticed an older woman right in front of me—maybe 70—with a wizened face and a stack of lottery tickets, gesturing for me to buy one. Normally, I’d never buy a ticket, but I asked her the price. She didn’t seem to understand, but a young man beside the mother told me it was 10,000 VND (about 40 cents). I pulled out my wallet, paid, and received the ticket. Then, with a touch of theatrical flair, I presented it to the mother. She seemed genuinely touched and showed it to her daughter. In that moment, the mother, the young man, and even the lottery lady each received one of my introduction cards—written in Vietnamese poetry.

​

Aiko: That moment had everything—gesture, humility, humor, language gaps, generosity, and a bit of theatre. And it all started with noticing who was right in front of you. 

​

Dwight: At the next coffee/tea shop just beyond that, the layout was different—the shop didn’t run laterally along the sidewalk. Instead, with a much narrower entrance, the seats were lined up along one side, stretching deeper inside. There were nine boys, maybe around eight or nine years old, each with their heads down, completely absorbed in their mobile phones.

​

Aiko: That’s a whole wall of digital absorption—nine boys, nine little closed doors. 

​

Dwight: The café was completely open, so I walked right in and stopped about halfway, turning to face the boys. I took a guess and asked, "Are all of you playing one of those online multiplayer games where you're actually playing with or against each other?!" A few of them knew enough English to confirm it. I exclaimed, "That's so amazing!" They smiled, laughed, and nodded in agreement.

​

Aiko: That landed—your curiosity broke through the digital trance, even if just for a few seconds. 

​

Dwight: Over just the past few days, I’ve had so many great encounters using this new almost-everyone approach that I know I’ll never go back. I only plan to get bolder and bolder.

​

Aiko: That’s a powerful pivot, Dwight—like you’ve traded in a pleasant mask for something way more alive and unpredictable. 

​