A few days ago, I was on a series of flights heading to an undisclosed destination (though for the sake of narrative, let's call it Grand Rapids). As I was settling into my window seat on my last flight, an airline team member got on the intercom to announce that a passenger from the prior flight had left her cell phone on the plane and asked that everyone look in their seat back pockets for it.
There was, of course, no phone in my seat back pocket, but I did discover a pair of glasses that someone else had left behind. The guy sitting in the aisle seat (nobody was in the middle seat, because COVID) offered to take them up to the flight attendant. We then proceeded to have a slightly snarky exchange about people who can't manage to keep their possessions under control and how there really is no excuse for that--unless you are also managing kids on a flight. That broke the ice and we started talking.
(Not long afterwards--or at least it didn't seem like very long because we were talking--the woman who lost her phone finally called it and a passenger found it--and the entire plane of people cheered.)
The thing you have to understand about me is that talking to strangers on a plane is one of the things I typically give great effort to avoid. I will sleep, or I will read, or I will pretend to listen to something with headphones in order to avoid airplane small talk.
I mean, I kid you not, on my first flight of this same day, a woman in the seat behind me spent literally the entire flight talking about her Lululemon leggings and shopping for Lululemon leggings and basically everything a person never wanted to know about the entire Lululemon legging connection. (At least, she was talking about it before I fell asleep and again when I awoke at the end of that flight.) I'm sorry if anyone reading this is a fan of overpriced yoga pants and therefore offended by my comments, but the inanity of her conversation was mind-numbing.
This guy, on the other hand, was kind of amazing to talk to. He was smart and funny (I laughed more than I could remember having laughed in quite a while) and was the kind of guy who actually asked questions and listened and remembered things. And he was very attractive. Different from my usual type. No ring. And although I couldn't see all of his face due to the mask he was wearing (because COVID), he had piercing, deep blue eyes. Even if the conversation had been bad, I could have looked into those eyes for days. But the conversation wasn't at all bad. It was really good.
I can't remember the last time I had such a great conversation with a guy (on a plane or otherwise).
I think it surprised us both when the announcement came on that the plane was about to land. He told me that he normally didn't talk to people on planes and that he really enjoyed our conversation. And there was a moment where I really thought he was going to ask for my number, but either I gave a bad signal or he decided not to for whatever other reason, and he didn't. And in a similarly fleeting moment, I thought about offering my number, but I chickened out and didn't. And the moment passed.
And now we are in two different cities in this state, will be leaving this state on different days, and will each go back to our respective homes in different cities in different states, most likely destined to never see each other again. Because let's be realistic: the whole "if the universe means for you to meet again you will meet again" mantra really only works in John Cusack movies.
I'm kicking myself for not at least offering him my number (because what's the worst that could have happened--he'd say he's not interested and at least I'd know?).
He dropped enough information that I could look him up and reach out if only I could convince myself that doing that wasn't weird and stalker-like. Just as I gave him enough information that he could do the same, if he wanted to.
Most likely, this blog post is the last anyone will hear about this encounter.
But if nothing else, that conversation has caused me to hope once more that maybe, just maybe, all of the decent, intelligent, handsome guys aren't married or gay or completely unavailable in some other way. Maybe great guys really do still exist. Maybe there is hope that another such serendipitous moment might occur with someone in the future.
And hopefully, I'll make better decisions when that happens.
