We were on the veranda of our river boat, our sliding glass door closed and locked behind us. My now very unhappy wife emphatically declaring that this is my problem to fix. She is correct in her accusation. After all it was I who had insisted the door would not lock if I pushed it shut. And I had, pushed it shut.

I began looking for a way out. There was always jumping into the river. but besides being unappealing, we were on the third deck. I could try peering around the divider hoping to find someone else out on their deck. Tried it, both sides, no luck. My wife, now getting anxious, reminds me once again that we are locked out of our comfortable cabin! Still guilty!

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I began yelling, to anyone who would hear me, “Help, anyone, I need help.” And suddenly, a head pops out from two decks down. “What do you need?” I explained that we were locked out, coincidentally without reference to blame. I asked that he find a porter and send them to our room. “Can do” was the answer and the talking head disappeared. Then, as the porter unlocked the door, he pops back out and declares “Hi, I’m Chris.” I replied, “I’m stupid but you can call me Ken.” And that was it, we knew our names and nothing else.

Two days later, I climbed the stairs to the top deck. A gentleman called me by name and said hi. The look on my face must have signaled that I didn’t recognize him. “I’m Chris,” he declares and extends his hand. As I thank him again, he introduces me to the group he is traveling with. One woman, Jada, begins a conversation with me. In short order, we find a connection. Though now from San Diego, she had grown up in Wisconsin. Upon further digging, it turns out she lived next door to my wife’s brother! She had actually babysat our nephews. Once my wife caught up to us, I introduced her, and her surprise was a treat.

There is an important take away from this story. Besides the fact that I had been rescued from an embarrassing situation, we had made new friends. Even if it was just for our week down the river. Experts say that as a culture, we are losing the art of conversation. We don’t know how or don’t want to engage with each other, let alone strangers on a boat. If Chris hadn’t gone beyond the rescue. If he hadn’t made the effort to tell me his name. If he hadn’t taken the risk in stopping to say hello. I would have never, halfway around the world, met the women who babysat my nephews.

Chain of events are funny things. What starts as an introduction, can often result in an interesting connection. But only if we pursue the conversation. In my case, Chris might not have shared his name. I would have thanked the porter and that would have been the end of this story. I would simply remember it as a very uncomfortable situation. Instead, it became a great story with a happy ending.

If I have to be, I will be a soldier in the war to save the art of conversation. Next time you are in the waiting line we were assigned to, be prepared to converse with me. I am betting we can share a great story and even find our connection. But don’t wait for me. See that person ahead of you, try it out. A simple hello might just be the start of a beautiful relationship. My nod to Casablanca.