Introverted by nature, I am not one to engage with my airplane seat companions. Usually, I barely nod a hello and then bury myself in a book or movie. Dare I sit by someone who wants to talk, they quickly realize that it won’t be with me. Body language is such an easy language in which to communicate.
I do sometimes think this behavior is really not in my best interest though. Instead, I should be that obnoxious friendly person who talks to everyone who catches my eye, in essence bonding with them in the off-chance there is a crash and I need one of them to carry me off the plane. They’ll be much more disposed to doing so if I’ve shown them I’m a decent human being.
Last night however, I sat by Al and he could have cared less that my nose was in a book. I gave up trying to read after the first five minutes. I was glad I did though. He is a colorful character.
Al was on his way back to Costa Rica after his monthly cancer treatment in Florida. He and two buddies had moved to Costa Rica five years ago. After two bad divorces in Minnesota, Al found a young (55) Columbian woman to marry him. His friends didn’t have such luck and returned home. Now in his mid 80’s with cancer, his young wife is his caretaker. She was waiting at the airport for him in the middle of the night to drive him the 1.5 hours back to the home they share. And she does this every month.
“I no understand Spanish and she no understand English, so we get along well.” Al loudly proclaimed in his sing-song Minnesota candance. (You can become quite intimate quickly on a plane.) I thought that made for an interesting summary of a marriage but turns out old Northern Hemisphere guys going south to some warmer clime to marry a younger woman is kind of a thing. We saw it all over Thailand. And for the women? Having food on the table, a reasonable place to live, support for their children perhaps—living with an old guy who may not speak their language or understand their culture perhaps but who wants companionship, a cook and a housekeeper, maybe sex once in awhile in exchange for security—is maybe not a bad trade-off.
But Al was a gentleman. Barely able to get up out of his seat when I needed to use the restroom and with a serious hand tremble to boot, he was alert and curious about me and candid about his past. At a young age he was given a choice to either join the army and fight in Korea or go to jail. Knowing his motorcycle gang days were behind him, he chose the army. Later he went to Vietnam and ended up serving 26 years in the army. I didn’t ask him about Trump though. Didn’t want to spoil the budding relationship.
As we were parting he gave me the tip of a life time. “When you get to the airport anywhere, just tell them you need a wheelchair. They don’t ask any questions, you get whisked across the airport to your gate, and you’re the first to load. Can’t beat that!” I said I’d be sure to consider it next time.
Oh and that obnoxious friendly person sitting next to you on your flight, well that could very well be Kevin next time…..
