I often love people after only a few seconds. From Seattle to Frankfurt I was seated next to a woman who I was convinced would be a good friend of mine if we were from the same town and spoke the same language. I spent the 10 1/2 hour flight laughing and gesturing with her, both of us equally unafraid of looking idiotic as the other. Our friendship blossomed, as many often do, over a meal.
A couple of hours into the flight our attendant wheeled her cart by and asked if I wanted the pasta or meat dish. After handing me the pasta, she focused her gaze on my isle mate.
"Pasta or beef?"
The woman--who I'm guessing was in her late 60s, looked at the flight attendant blankly. The flight attendant smiled and switched to speaking German, asking the same question (I'm assuming.)
The woman sitting next to me was still obviously not understanding.
"What language does she speak?"
I don't know, I admitted. I turned to her "English? Español? Deutsch?"
"Ukraine. I'm from Ukraine." my friend-in-the-making answered in hard earned English.
I gently placed my hand on her arm, uncovered my food and pointed to it. Then I motioned to the man in the isle across from us who was busy scarfing down the beef. She chose beef. That seemed to be the only thing we disagreed on the entire flight. She flipped through her in-flight magazine pointing out funny pictures, and I made a little makeshift foot rest out of our bags, blankets, and pillows. When I was trying to go to sleep, she leaned over me and closed my window shade. Instant travel buddies.
I wish I could say that my flight from Frankfurt to Manchester had endeared itself to me as much but, in fact, it was one of two or three flights in my life that I could blame reality (and not anxiety) for my racing thoughts about whether or not the plane was going to crash. About half way through the 90 minute flight, the turbulence became so persistent and intense that I am pretty sure I either personally let go of, or heard other people half yell, half cry every expletive in every language any of us knew. And, as we were on our way to Europe, there were definitely some polyglots on that flight, so it was interesting. At least it would have been if I hadn't been preoccupied thinking, I hope my parents know I love them and that when they think of me in the future they'll think how I had a full and happy life.
When we landed there was a collective round of applause. I don't know if it really happened, or if I imagined it, but my memory recalls the captain came on and saying, "We made it!" (If he didn't, he really should have.)
