I made friends with Sherri yesterday at the Midway Airport. Then something weird happened. We started meeting other people. Interesting people. It was as if once the gates were opened, there was no going back.
Sherri and I had been delayed on a Southwest flight into Midway with ATA connections to Boston and had similar concerns about making it home. She overheard my conversation on the cell phone while I was trying to work out the connections and had struck up a conversation with me to compare notes on our fates.
Finally, we had our boarding passes resolved, and were both assigned seats on the ATA flight from Chicago to Boston, but strangely, we had slipped into a sort of spousal relationship through sorting out our problem together. We decided to go find something to eat at the food court.
The idea was that one of us would watch the bags while the other ordered food. We approached a table that was occupied by two young men engaged in a conversation. There was really no reason for us to pick out this table but I was attracted to it. There just seemed to be space for us there.
I sat down while Sherri went to order her food and listened in on the conversation. Jim, a Japanese translator from San Diego, was explaining how broadband had been allocated to media interests and that it probably never would become readily available to the general population as a creative tool. Ken, a theater marketing specialist from New York City, listened with interest.
“But wait,” I blurted out. “The real opportunity is in rich media. In the future the masses will provide their own stories using music, art, and literature.” They both stopped and stared at me.
“You’re right,” said Jim. “Excuse me while I check on my plane. I may not see you guys ever again, but I’ll probably be right back.”
“Wait a minute, you guys don’t know each other?” I asked Ken.
“Nope, we were on the same flight to Chicago. It was delayed and we are waiting to make our connections,” said Ken. “We were just talking to an Austrian couple before you and your wife came along.”
“Oh she’s not my wife,” I said. “We just met, too. Same circumstances.”
Just then Sherri came back to the table. “Sorry it took so long. O.K., now you go ahead and get your food.” I looked at her. It seemed like we had been together forever. “You’re treating me like your husband, aren’t you? And I’m reacting to you as if you were my wife!”
So the conversation was great. Ideas were exchanged. And I’m happy to report that Bush bashing is alive and well from coast-to-coast. Sherri and I made our way back to our gate and we were sitting there making calls to our spouses.
“So you two just met?” A woman across the row from us asked. “I could have sworn you were married.”
Pamela was her name. She was from Montana and traveling to Boston. She had heard that New Englanders were uptight and she couldn’t believe that we were chatting so amicably. Pam made some interesting connections for me, again having to do with the power of the media and how 45% of the population still believes that we actually found weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.
Pam, Jim, Ken, and Sherri, and the couple from Austria – wherever you are – my question is this. Was it just a fluke of circumstances that our paths crossed in Chicago, or is there a bigger connection to make? A bigger understanding to achieve? Maybe a better future ahead than the path we are on?
I’d love to hear your stories in greater detail. Please comment if you feel like contributing.
