Stranger on a plane

I wrote this a while ago in a different blog, but I deleted that one and decided to start over so her goes: 

Jan 17th, 2011

Someone just coughed in my face! Who does that? A complete stranger sitting directly behind you in an airplane, that’s who, but I can’t complain because that’s the worst of it. At least compared to the man who was sitting next to me. On top of being moved from first class to coach (where us idiots are playing with etch-a-sketch’s rather than reading the latest TIME Magazine), displacing the nice New Zealand girl, who was offered free accommodation and $800 because of the overbooking… I digress. On top of being moved his father has just passed away and I think I am the first one he has talked to or at least had the chance to re-live his father’s memories.

Originally, I was somewhat skeptical of Steve (the second Steve I have sat next to on an airplane; the horse-loving womanizer Steve). Again…besides the point. So I was skeptical because as I was sitting eating my cafeteria-like lasagne, he was served lamb chops with aioli and asking for olive bread. While eating I kept hearing a sort of snorting sound, an exhalation of breath accompanied by head shakes. This goes on to the point of necessary explanation. He was obviously trying to get my attention or had some sort of breathing impediment. It was the former. He begins to explain his odd behavior, that his father loved meat (referring to his meal) while his mother was a vegetarian. At home he would have all the vegetarian meals his wife would make, but whenever he visited New Zealand he would indulge. So while looking down at his lamb, he wasn’t shaking his head in dissatisfaction, but remembrance. I also found out more, of course (when else do you divulge deeply personal information, but on a plane to the person next to you whom you will never see again).  His father loved toasted almond ice cream from Dreyer’s, so when Steve went back to visit for the funeral he visited the store where they used to buy the ice cream, but they no longer sold it. He phoned the Dreyer’s headquarters to see if they manufactured toasted almond ice cream, but they no longer supplied the flavor. It was gone, never to return. If I was writing some fictional novel this would have some sort of obvious significance, some sort of symbolism. His father loved 508 Levi jeans and had about 15 of the same exact pair because his wife told him he may never find the right fit again (symbolism again?) and he had loads of new socks, never opened. On the day of his death, he was wearing bright red socks with holes in them. This made us both laugh:)

It gets heavier though. He tells me about picking up his father’s ashes at the infirmary. How strange it was. And I try to put myself in his shoes (sorry dad). How very strange, the formality juxtaposed with intense emotion, having a complete stranger formally hand over what is left of your father. “And just a week ago I had a long conversation with him.” I  didn’t really know what to say to this. I just can’t imagine, well I can, but I have no idea what it is really like. We try to relate, us humans to one another’s feelings, perhaps the law of reciprocity? You really never know though (insert quote on living life to the fullest here).  Its practically impossible to “live life to its fullest” every single day isn’t it?  I’m sorry, I don’t having any wise words, because I too am guilty of redundancy and taking things for granted. But I am an advocate for doing what you love. Sometimes the steps to get there may be hard, but that’s part of the whole process and its all about the process not the end result. For instance, the top of the mountain is so rewarding because of the journey of getting to the peak.

Steve has moved back up to the front again to some special seat where he can sleep (not sure why he couldn’t have done that earlier, for his own sake of course) so I have now commandeered his coach seat, sprawling my backpack and pillow on his side.

In all I wonder, do things happen for a reason or do things just work out? I used to think that everything happens for a reason, but I think it just works out and there doesn’t have to be reason in that.

In my head I hear Carrie Bradshaw narrating her “Sex and the City” column, ending with an antithetical question about love  “is it that love is cruel or that cruelty is necessary for love” not verbatim) I made that up, but you get the point.

It’s been 5 hours. 7 to go.