The other night I found myself assigned to the middle seat on my flight from Boston to Fort Lauderdale. Normally, I'm a window person but like The Stones say, you can't always get what you want.
So, without any huffing & puffing I squeezed myself into my cozy (which really means claustrophobic) seat and got myself situated for the trip. For me that means the following ritual: text messages sent, phone off, scarf wrapped around me, bottled water nestled in the seat pouch in front of me and a brand new book in hand. My last step is always a "slow the heart rate, you made it" exhale (since I've missed a flight or two in my day).
So, without any huffing & puffing I squeezed myself into my cozy (which really means claustrophobic) seat and got myself situated for the trip. For me that means the following ritual: text messages sent, phone off, scarf wrapped around me, bottled water nestled in the seat pouch in front of me and a brand new book in hand. My last step is always a "slow the heart rate, you made it" exhale (since I've missed a flight or two in my day).
You should know in advance that it's not unheard of for me to make long-time friends while flying. In reality, it's commonplace (once a social butterfly, always a social butterfly). However, there is no person on this fine planet who could have prepared me for the most unexpected contrast of conversations that were about to take place between myself and my row-mates.
And so it began...
As I was in the process of my pre-flight exhale the passenger to my left greeted me with a warm hello. He was in the coveted window seat but I got over that as quickly as our conversation began. He asked about the book I was reading (The Happiness Project) of which I explained I just purchased it so I couldn't speak to whether it was good or not quite yet. I soon learned that he was in his early 20's, from Russia (Belarus), has been in the States for a year, works his ass off and plans to see as much of the US and Europe as he can before going back to Belarus to settle down. He was incredibly sweet (the un-jaded, early 20-something kind of sweet) and I instantly liked him.
In the kickoff stage of our chat the person assigned to the aisle seat, to my right, made her entrance. I was alerted to her arrival because her purse landed on my lap as if a personal trainer had tossed me one of those extra large weight balls without a heads up it was coming. She plopped herself into her seat along with her Beyonce inspired faux eyelashes, anti-gravity hair and super-sized personality. Once she was situated she apologized for the intimate introduction, I smiled, responded with a sincere "no worries" and continued my conversation with my Russian acquaintance.
Somewhere along the way, Lady Grace also asked me about the book I had in my hand. The Happiness Project had proven itself to be quite the conversation starter and before you knew it we were off and running in conversation as well.
She asked if I had read a few other soulful books and soon we were talking about the making & breaking of habits (both take 21 days), Zodiac signs and what type of music we listened to. As soon as the rapper Eminem's name was muttered a light bulb went off for her. She must have known she had an audience. At this time she proceeded to excitedly excavate her purse. She started digging through it with her crystal encrusted acrylics, found her iPhone and began click-clacking her way through her files. It was clear she had something to show us and it appeared to be important. Once she found what she was looking for, she handed us her phone and said "read this".
She asked if I had read a few other soulful books and soon we were talking about the making & breaking of habits (both take 21 days), Zodiac signs and what type of music we listened to. As soon as the rapper Eminem's name was muttered a light bulb went off for her. She must have known she had an audience. At this time she proceeded to excitedly excavate her purse. She started digging through it with her crystal encrusted acrylics, found her iPhone and began click-clacking her way through her files. It was clear she had something to show us and it appeared to be important. Once she found what she was looking for, she handed us her phone and said "read this".
And so we did...
It took a moment to fully understand what I was reading but then it suddenly dawned on me...she was a lyrical poet in the form of a gangster rapper. Her words were so gangster I wasn't even sure I knew exactly what she was trying to say. All I know is that her "boo" meant a lot to her, she was really pissed off, she didn't want him to go anywhere with anyone (especially some other gangster girl rapper who had some colorful nicknames) and that she was willing to go the extra mile to keep her boo happy.
I looked up at my Russian acquaintance wondering what he might be thinking as he read along. He was just looking at the screen with a blank stare as I did my best to follow the story this hardcore poet was so eager to share.
When we finished I handed the phone back to her and decided to focus on our shared love of writing, which seemed like a common denominator. I asked if she ever went to Open Mic events to share her work. She responded with a sincere and heartfelt "Oh, no girrlllll - I don't spit". It took me a moment to break the trance her faux lashes had me under (I mean, I was only inches away from them and could feel the wind with every blink of her eye). I found myself just nodding as I watched them flutter and did an inventory of the slang options for the word "spit". She must have realized I was processing something so she just gave me a moment as she sipped her vodka drink. It turns out Lady Grace was a unique mix of gangster and lady wrapped up in one aesthetically crafted bow.
When we finished I handed the phone back to her and decided to focus on our shared love of writing, which seemed like a common denominator. I asked if she ever went to Open Mic events to share her work. She responded with a sincere and heartfelt "Oh, no girrlllll - I don't spit". It took me a moment to break the trance her faux lashes had me under (I mean, I was only inches away from them and could feel the wind with every blink of her eye). I found myself just nodding as I watched them flutter and did an inventory of the slang options for the word "spit". She must have realized I was processing something so she just gave me a moment as she sipped her vodka drink. It turns out Lady Grace was a unique mix of gangster and lady wrapped up in one aesthetically crafted bow.
As the hours passed and with the elegance of a ballerina I switched from conversations about growing up modestly in Belarus to Lady Grace's time as a stripper. Only to switch again from homesick thoughts of the sweetheart the Russian acquaintance had waiting for him in Russia to the racy boudoir photos and selfies that Lady Grace was eager to share from her iPad.
Somewhere in the last hour of our flight, everyone quieted down. My row-mates fell to sleep and I sat there with a huge smile on my face wondering how I was going to give this experience the voice it deserved.
As I sat pondering it all, I realized that not everyone has the interest or ability to follow, receive and respect such diversity in one sitting. I mean, let's just accept the fact that my conversational pendulum had spent hours swinging from one extreme to the other.
It was in this moment it dawned on me that had I not been a Gemini (with the gifts of duality, flexibility and multitasking) it's possible, if not likely, my mind would have been blown somewhere over North Carolina.
As I sat pondering it all, I realized that not everyone has the interest or ability to follow, receive and respect such diversity in one sitting. I mean, let's just accept the fact that my conversational pendulum had spent hours swinging from one extreme to the other.
It was in this moment it dawned on me that had I not been a Gemini (with the gifts of duality, flexibility and multitasking) it's possible, if not likely, my mind would have been blown somewhere over North Carolina.
:: Always under the same sky ::
