"Sit down and shut up" annoys me when dangling from a rearview mirror in air-freshener form, or on bumper stickers and keychains, or even emblazoned across seat-covers (yes, I've seen it). In fact, I cannot fathom an instance in which I would even use this expression, except when I'm on a plane. I ensure a fully charged iPod battery and fresh and engaging book for flights, ESPECIALLY the early morning ones I tend to end up on because they're cheaper.
It's not that I'm opposed to talking to strangers. I will chat with the Trader Joe's check-out person, with someone waiting to cross the street, salespeople in stores or kiosks, and little "how-ya-doin" questions to customer service people on the unending phone calls I've been making lately. I just don't like talking on PLANES. Think about it. You're stuck. Say you do strike up conversation, and then it gets boring or you run out of things to say or you really are tired since it is actually 6 AM and you've got to be nice to people later so you should probably take this time to snooze. And if you do stop talking to the person, they have to wonder which of the above is true of their conversational abilities, which can never be a good feeling. No really, take my headphones and book and sinister stare for what they are: please don't talk to me.
A couple of weekends ago on my trip to Denver, I had four flights, and four talkers. Well, I'm not sure if one was ordinarily a talker, but we'll get to that. I got to know a bit about each person, snapshots of their lives, and it was interesting, but again with the early flights and the running out of things to talk about. It's not that the people themselves are terribly uninteresting, it's just my whole thing with talking on planes. But, for the first time ever, I sat next to someone I wanted to keep talking to.
And actually, we didn't STOP talking until we parted ways; he to baggage claim and I to my connecting flight. It was the greatest non-first-date ever. He is about my age, and living near where I did my student teaching so we had geography as a starting common ground. We chatted about siblings, friends and roommates' weddings, schools, snow and water sports, traveling...and less than 20 minutes into the conversation, I'd already mentally mapped out our entire future together. But the terrible, tragic timing of it all! Drat that leaving for the Peace Corps! I kept thinking about the situation with frustration and a sinking feeling of uncertainty the whole rest of the day. I felt like I had met someone I could really be interested in, but the timing was way off. What was the point? I could have napped. I even had a few mad moments of plotting out ways to contact him, such as posting in the Craig's List "MIssed Connections" section (secret single behavior revelation...I read those!), or I could get in contact with him at school, or something. I mean, every bit of Hollywood screams "Go for it!" timing or no timing, right?
I didn't try to contact him. Besides it being a bit stalker-ish, I've just got my heart so set on Ukraine, that I wouldn't even want to try to see what happened. But it was still disappointing.
Driving in Orange tonight, past familiar places where I graded papers or did my lesson planning, I got to thinking about it again. Maybe the point of a "missed connection" because of bad timing is simply to remind us that the possibility is out there. Almost a one-in-four chance, especially if you rate my last string of dates! It's frustrating to not have what we want when we want it, especially when it's right there in the aisle seat, but though we can't have it, it's strangely comforting to know it's there. And one day, the timing will be right and the one-in-four will pop up again like those Bingo balls in the spinner. In the meantime, there are dreams to pursue, life to live and people to love. And planes to catch.
No comments:
Post a Comment