May 10th, 2552 A matter of protocol
Test Pilot/ Part-time mechanic – Schroedinger’s Kat Reporting
First-contact is a really big thing in the fleet, and only the brass and people cleared for first-contact are supposed to actually, you know, make contact.
That’s all well and good, but when the people you’re meeting with ignore the diplomats and researchers and go straight to their pilot and treating them like an old friend— that plan kind of goes out the window.
No one is really sure what to do next. I mean, protocols are very specific and we’re supposed to learn as much as we can about our hosts without insulting them. But it’s more like we’ve been invited to Christmas dinner, and they’ve seated us at the little kid’s table.
Halfway through the discussion one of the elders tapped me on the shoulder and directed me to the ‘big people’s’ table while they took my seat with the ‘children’
I tried to explain that they should have one of the others talk to the elders, but again, one of them reached out and gently stroked my chest as I had the lizard, as if they were saying ‘It’s all right— we’re your friends’
Something tells me it’s going to be hard convincing them that that is not our standard greeting.
Murphy, weirdest way… story of my life.