Half the room ended up by the window. Half by the bar. Nobody planned it, and nobody moved for twenty minutes.

I watched this happen at a reception mixing UK and Latin American guests. Ten minutes in, the room had split clean down the middle, separated by the Atlantic Ocean.

The Situation

The Latin American guests opened the way they always open: are you married? Do you have children? Where's your family from? To them, standard, expected warmth.

The British guests heard something else. A door opening faster than they'd like. A few smiled and answered anyway. More found a reason to top up a drink near someone safer.

To the Latin American guests, the retreat read as nothing. Weather, traffic, how was the journey: three questions that ask for nothing back. Most got bored, and drifted off too.

By the time the canapés came round, the room had sorted itself. Nobody had been rude. Nobody had broken any rules; that they knew of. Two rooms, where one had been booked.

The Friction