Sitting Next To Strangers

I'm sleep deprived and delirious on a plane to Seattle and the older man next to me says, "What book are you reading?"

Talking about books leads to talking about death, we make eye contact, and seem to know each other instantly, even though we don't yet know each other's names.

We return to our books for an hour until he says, "Do you mind me interrupting you again?" 

I don't.

He tells me how Louise Endrich, the author of the book The Sentence, inserts herself into the fiction story he's reading in a subtle side door and how he's never known a book with this particular writing technique. Our discussion moves from an author's decision, to his eight grandchildren, to my work as an elementary school counselor, to his marriage to a man.

When our flight lands, I wish we had more time together as we say our goodbyes.

On a chairlift at Alyeska, I sit next to three ski racers who appear to be about ten or eleven years old.

"Racing is so tiring, physically and mentally, even though we don't do a lot of runs," one of the boys says.

"I know. You wanna know my favorite part of race day? When its all over."

"Me too."

"Yeah!"

"Then we just get to relax and hang out with our friends."

"Yeah, and its not like when we go to each other's houses because then we just end up playing video games."

"Yeah, there's no screens here."

"Yeah, we just get to throw a football around and just kinda hang out."

It takes all my restraint not to lean over, high five these boys, and slather them with praise. Instead I stare straight ahead, with a giant smile beneath my goggles and face mask.

(Old picture but I'm smiling and wearing my goggles and I didn't take a picture on the shuttle bus...)

On a shuttle bus in Sacramento to our rental car, for a work training on suicide intervention, the bus driver makes a reference to the movie Weekend at Bernies. Next thing I know a full blown discussion of "classic " movies evolves around us, with more than one middle-aged Mom saying she regularly rewatches older movies with her kids. A man across from me pulls out a line from the movie Weird Science.

We all laugh. "We are dating ourselves," someone says.

When we reach our destination, I smile at my fellow passengers and thank the driver before grabbing my bag from the rack.

(View from my room)

During my training at the Embassy Suites Hotel, I get a difficult phone call from home. When I return to the conference room, a woman sitting diagonally across from me looks over and mouths, "Are you Ok?"

I shake my head: No.

She nods her head towards the door and raises her eyebrows. We exit the room together and end up hugging, though I only know her name because she wears it on a lanyard around her neck.

Megan.

In her introduction, she shared she had an Irish Catholic father and an English Protestant mother and was almost born on Saint Patrick's Day, if so she would have been named Patricia but her Mother held out to thwart her father.

I liked her instantly.

Just like I liked Mike, my fellow passenger on the plane, who showed me pictures of a house lined with books.

And I loved the boys on the chairlift, who reveled in connecting with their peers in real time.

I love humanity, with all our flawed messiness, especially when we take time to connect.

When we sit next to a stranger and listen.  Or look them in the eye and say, "What's your name?"

When we laugh together despite our various backgrounds. Or offer our outstretched arms for a much needed hug.

Comments

[Valerie Demming]

Christy,
Have you seen this video? Valerie

https://alaskapublic.org/2023/02/24/how-an-accident-turned-this-skier-into-a-force-for-good-indie-alaska/

[Christy]

Yes Valarie, thank you, we often see Ira at Challenge--though not yet this season.

[Danielle]

Hope all is okay in your neck of the woods.
Danielle in Zurich

[Christy]

Thanks for checking Danielle, I've just been avoiding writing and I'm not really sure why. Hoping to write soon.