Nobody waves hello in Connecticut. I didn’t notice it at first; Jenny had to point it out.

A well-recognized rule of living in Connecticut is that you don’t actually exist unless you were born here or have resided here for at least twenty years. Anything less is considered “just passing through.”

I went my whole childhood without noticing. It certainly didn’t seem unusual.

Early in our relationship, Jenny and I would go for walks in the neighborhood behind her apartment. Because she lived on a different street, nobody recognized her and people would stare as we walked by wondering why we were on their blessed cul-de-sac.

My natural reaction was to lower my gaze and speed up, like a normal person, but Jenny made eye contact and waved, like a sociopath.

At first, I chided Jenny for this peculiar behavior but started enjoying it as she got angrier and angrier at the number of denied return waves. Like a girl with daddy issues, I found the constant rejection irresistible and made a game of predicting each person’s reaction to Jenny’s friendly wave as we approached.

Seeing a rumpled suit approach his mailbox, I’d say, “there’s no way this guy waves back, his spirit broke twenty years ago.” Always the optimist, Jenny would disagree predicting he’d pipe in with a “beautiful night for a walk” flourish. Neither of us was right very often, but the experience changed my life.

Ever since, I’ve been a waving fool – fueled not by a desire to connect with people, but by an irresistible urge to know if they’ll acknowledge my existence. A person’s reaction to someone else’s wave says a lot about them.

I’ve found many exceptions to Connecticut’s no-waving rule. For example, the absence of a sidewalk makes pedestrians much more likely to wave back when passed by a car.

Perhaps the increased vulnerability of sharing the same space with a few thousand pounds of engine-powered momentum makes them more appreciative of a courtesy slow down.

I’m a big fan of waving while driving, especially at four-way stop signs. Some of the nicest people I’ve ever met are at four-way stop signs when they assume the role of traffic cop.

These same people can be extremely short-sighted in other situations, like making left-hand turns at a green traffic light where they can’t control the flow of traffic in the lanes beside them. I’ve almost been waved right into at-fault collisions by several of these well-intentioned fools.

The Mailman always waves. It doesn’t matter which one, they’ve always got a friendly gesture, even when reminding you that they’re now called Mail Carriers.

Another common exception is that everybody waves when they’re on a boat. The mere proximity to water is enough to lighten a typical non-waver’s soul.

If you ever find yourself on a boat in the company of a non-waver, grab a life jacket and hop off. You’re in danger. Nothing good can come from being trapped at sea with such a joyless psychopath.

Most people also wave at animals, especially monkeys. I used to frequent the monkey house at the National Zoo and almost everyone who walked in, myself included, would wave. The monkeys never waved back.

Stupid people wave at fish.

Parades provide society’s most uninhibited waving platform. Parade waving takes things to a whole new level. Despite having no discernible talent or name recognition, I’ve waved at thousands of parade-goers in my life and thrown unthinkable amounts of dollar-store candy to children.

Campaign staffers are the extras of political life often thrown into the background of pageantry moments just to fill out the picture.

Parades are safe spaces for waving because there is a clear purpose, constant traffic progression, and a suitable distance between parties.

Distance is key when it comes to waving, especially with men. No man has ever engaged in a close-proximity wave.

Nods work best for close-proximity recognition. This is especially clear in elevators, or when encountering a man accompanying a lone woman or children.

The man-to-man nod is a silent way of saying, “Hello, I see you’re on your way and so am I. I’m aware of you in case you’re thinking of pulling a knife, so let’s keep this cordial.”

While the nod may not be as friendly as the wave, it meets the basic dignity threshold of acknowledging another person’s presence, which is good enough for me.

Next month will mark my third anniversary of being a Connecticut homeowner. Due to a heavily wooded area, mountainous backyard and high-voltage power lines, I’ve only got two immediate neighbors.

I’ve met the ones to my right once. She came over to yell at us for our cat constantly passing through her backyard, which was really uncomfortable because we don’t own a cat.

The ones to the left seem like a nice family. I wave to them every time I see them pulling in or out of their driveway and they always react by speeding up. Guess it’s time to buy a boat.

 

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