I think you could pretty much sum up humanity based on what you see while people watching in an airport. Surprisingly, for someone who often meets people, I rarely meet people traveling. There's something about airports, planes, and being forced to sit next to an unknown person for hours that puts us in our own cocoons.
While they are lonely, airports are also a display of all the connections that remind us what life is about. Everyone here has either just seen something, or is going to see something. They're either sad to be departing people or, like that couple just over there, they greet their life partners with a hug and a long awaited kiss. Walking off the plane, it's all about making the phone call to your awaiting ride. Or if you're stuck waiting like me, you can catch up on video calls over the internet like the man sitting next to me right now.
And always, if you think you have a horror story there's someone who's worse off. A man across from me had to leave security to pick up a package for his company (which is why they diverted him from LA to Seattle before heading back across the Pacific) and the line for security was so long he missed his flight. Right now he's stuck. There is no other flight til 2pm tomorrow and is just waiting, trying to figure out his options. I don't know why that other man had to be In Boise in the morning but shouting at the top of your lungs at the desk agent won't change the dangerous foggy conditions two states away. I'm sorry the airlines' priorities seem to get you there alive over risking getting you there on time. Airports do bring out the worst in people.
And they reveal our capacity to fall into line. Without going into the dangers and fear that haunts today's air travel, I just know if I want to get somewhere I am going to have to take of my shoes. So they have it all: love, sadness, anger, anticipation, satisfaction, and hold all this life temporarily in a holding pattern.
Right now, I have a gigantic bike box, a clue to my adventure on the other end. I am waiting for someone to ask me about it. So far, only a 4 year old has spoken up. However, he didn't accept my answer and proceeded to grill me with questions about why I would want a bike in a box, how did the bike fit in the big box, and why would I ever want to ride my bike in California and take it there in a box no less!
But I digress. Airports are life hit with the pause button. Life happens outside of them and in between the flights we take, and yet the emotional range of life itself is seen on on the rainbow of faces that walk between it's gates. It's cool to see.
Awww... there goes a puppy!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
The Joy of Strangers
I was hanging out at a coffee shop with some friends this evening. Now this particular coffee shop has some live music and serves beer in the evening and it was time for the next round among my friends and I. So I headed down to buy the next round. Walking down the stairs I saw this elaborate spread of rice and goodies on the counter. It looked like it was set up for a group in the corner.
Well, before I could make my way to the register to place a request for a few more pints I was waved over by a fun friendly gentleman who shoved a plate in my hand and orders me to dive in. Did I look like a starving student? Or maybe he was just happy to share since they had too much. I thanked him and asked what it was for while I daintily took some rice.
It's funny how asking a question like that gives you an entire back story and you suddenly know not just his connection but the connections among an entire group. His girlfriend, who was bustling over hotplates and piles of cakes at the time, knew Joy, a Korean woman who worked at the coffee shop. She, at the time was also uncovering her homemade korean BBQ. They knew the songstress who had been strumming the guitar for all our enjoyment for the last hour, so they had set this up for their friends.
It smelled delicious. As he explained how this bounty of food came to appeare before me, his girlfriend swiped my plate away and began to load it up with samples of each dish. Apparently I needed a lot more rice. Joy took my beer order and filled my pints as my pile of food on a tiny desert plate grew higher and higher. Paying for the beer I wished them all well and headed upstairs with an evil grin on my face, knowing I would be the envy of my friends.
I was, but it didn't last long. Only a few glares and a couple of fantastic bites later Joy arrived with several plates piled equally high, offering treats for all to indulge in. She admited to us, Korean BBQ was her specialty. I have to agree. She's pretty special!
Well, before I could make my way to the register to place a request for a few more pints I was waved over by a fun friendly gentleman who shoved a plate in my hand and orders me to dive in. Did I look like a starving student? Or maybe he was just happy to share since they had too much. I thanked him and asked what it was for while I daintily took some rice.
It's funny how asking a question like that gives you an entire back story and you suddenly know not just his connection but the connections among an entire group. His girlfriend, who was bustling over hotplates and piles of cakes at the time, knew Joy, a Korean woman who worked at the coffee shop. She, at the time was also uncovering her homemade korean BBQ. They knew the songstress who had been strumming the guitar for all our enjoyment for the last hour, so they had set this up for their friends.
It smelled delicious. As he explained how this bounty of food came to appeare before me, his girlfriend swiped my plate away and began to load it up with samples of each dish. Apparently I needed a lot more rice. Joy took my beer order and filled my pints as my pile of food on a tiny desert plate grew higher and higher. Paying for the beer I wished them all well and headed upstairs with an evil grin on my face, knowing I would be the envy of my friends.
I was, but it didn't last long. Only a few glares and a couple of fantastic bites later Joy arrived with several plates piled equally high, offering treats for all to indulge in. She admited to us, Korean BBQ was her specialty. I have to agree. She's pretty special!
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
It was shite!
I didn't think I would meet anyone today. I just had to go to the office for a meeting and I am normally not very social on the bus. So the plan was to stay home, hop on the bus, hit the meeting, and head back home.
Getting on the bus however, this guy in front of me asked the bus driver for directions, mumbling something about a museum. His accent was really thick and he didn't quite know where he wanted to go so I tried to interpret, injecting with "anthropology museum?"
That wasn't it. All I got for a response was a confused expression and look towards his friend who had already sat down. On cue his friend started digging around in his pocked. Sitting near them I wondered if they were tourists or just new. I mean they fit right in with vancouver, plastering the brand northface and a bright blue tooke. After searching every pocket (north face jackets really come with way to many pockets), he finally found the paper with a map that required a little deciphering.
It turned out they didn't need to get on the bus at all, but fortunately the next stop was close enough that it didn't really affect them. I gave them easy directions that would give them a nice walk along the beach and let them explore a bit.
"Is it worth it?" He asked and I realized they were actually speaking English the whole time, but their Scottish brood was so thick they barely understood me and me them! I had honestly never been to that museum, but told them the walk would provide amazing views.
As they got off, the bus driver, who overheard our conversation, wished them luck and warned them the museum was small. He suggested the Anthropology museum but they had already stepped off the bus. Heading to my meeting, I wondered if I had directed them wrong and should have sent them to the anthropology museum instead.
Now usually, in these moments you never find out what happens. You wish your stranger well and never think about again. Except perhaps, like myself spend a moment wondering if you had given the wrong advice or confusing directions.
I went to my meeting an it went well. Walking home proud of myself after picking up a few groceries, I passed the bus stop across the street from where I met the two men. I recognized a certain blue tooke. To my amazement there were the two northface jackets. "How was the museum?" I asked walking up to the two men waiting for the bus once again.
"Small." The thicker accented bloke said. "It was shite!" His friend added with a shrug. So my guidance was indeed wrong. I felt bad, but they seemed to be having a nice time in Vancouver. They told me they come from a village in Scotland of only 1000 people and were experiencing some pretty extreme shock just from the size of Vancouver, which is not what I would call an especially large city. "But we did like Stanley park" and that blue tooke advertised grouse mountain so they seemed to be enjoying their adventure.
The two Scots back home on Thursday. I hope tomorrow provides them a better adventure than today's small museums.
Getting on the bus however, this guy in front of me asked the bus driver for directions, mumbling something about a museum. His accent was really thick and he didn't quite know where he wanted to go so I tried to interpret, injecting with "anthropology museum?"
That wasn't it. All I got for a response was a confused expression and look towards his friend who had already sat down. On cue his friend started digging around in his pocked. Sitting near them I wondered if they were tourists or just new. I mean they fit right in with vancouver, plastering the brand northface and a bright blue tooke. After searching every pocket (north face jackets really come with way to many pockets), he finally found the paper with a map that required a little deciphering.
It turned out they didn't need to get on the bus at all, but fortunately the next stop was close enough that it didn't really affect them. I gave them easy directions that would give them a nice walk along the beach and let them explore a bit.
"Is it worth it?" He asked and I realized they were actually speaking English the whole time, but their Scottish brood was so thick they barely understood me and me them! I had honestly never been to that museum, but told them the walk would provide amazing views.
As they got off, the bus driver, who overheard our conversation, wished them luck and warned them the museum was small. He suggested the Anthropology museum but they had already stepped off the bus. Heading to my meeting, I wondered if I had directed them wrong and should have sent them to the anthropology museum instead.
Now usually, in these moments you never find out what happens. You wish your stranger well and never think about again. Except perhaps, like myself spend a moment wondering if you had given the wrong advice or confusing directions.
I went to my meeting an it went well. Walking home proud of myself after picking up a few groceries, I passed the bus stop across the street from where I met the two men. I recognized a certain blue tooke. To my amazement there were the two northface jackets. "How was the museum?" I asked walking up to the two men waiting for the bus once again.
"Small." The thicker accented bloke said. "It was shite!" His friend added with a shrug. So my guidance was indeed wrong. I felt bad, but they seemed to be having a nice time in Vancouver. They told me they come from a village in Scotland of only 1000 people and were experiencing some pretty extreme shock just from the size of Vancouver, which is not what I would call an especially large city. "But we did like Stanley park" and that blue tooke advertised grouse mountain so they seemed to be enjoying their adventure.
The two Scots back home on Thursday. I hope tomorrow provides them a better adventure than today's small museums.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Did you see the eagles?
I run. No, I'm not a runner, but I am one of those people who match sneakers with spandex on and hit the pavement. I have zero gift for it and I've been told I really look quite miserable while doing it. Now I don't love it, but I enjoy it. I am just not a natural.
Today during my run in a local park, I plodded along with ACDC blasting through my Ipod with I'll admit, probably one of those horribly miserable looks plastered on my face. Passing a man, I noticed he seemed to be trying to say something to me over Highway to Hell pumping in my ears. Out popped the earphones and I stopped.
The jolly elderly man, who in his bright red winter coat and hat was Santa Clause without the beard, pointed to the top of a totem pole in the center of the park. "Did you see the eagles up there?"
Sure enough, I looked and there were 2 bald eagles perched on the top, which according to Santa was very rare to see. He also pointed behind us to another, younger eagle who wasn't quite bald yet, getting harassed by 3 crows in a tree. Crows are mean!
Santa and I shared a moment, watching the birds before I wished him an good day. Smiling now I picked up the pace again, but I'll have to blame him for how slow my average pace became for today's workout. Not because I stopped to chat, but because he reminded me to look around and take in those sites we forget to see.
Suddenly, for the rest of my run I kept seeing birds! Not Hitchcock's version, more like a Disney sing along. They were everywhere! In a bush, souring over head, on the water, sitting on a frozen swimming pool and fighting over a twig. Everything from the eagles to crows, sparrows and seagulls. And thanks to Santa and his birds, I'm sure I no longer looked miserable.
Today during my run in a local park, I plodded along with ACDC blasting through my Ipod with I'll admit, probably one of those horribly miserable looks plastered on my face. Passing a man, I noticed he seemed to be trying to say something to me over Highway to Hell pumping in my ears. Out popped the earphones and I stopped.
The jolly elderly man, who in his bright red winter coat and hat was Santa Clause without the beard, pointed to the top of a totem pole in the center of the park. "Did you see the eagles up there?"
Sure enough, I looked and there were 2 bald eagles perched on the top, which according to Santa was very rare to see. He also pointed behind us to another, younger eagle who wasn't quite bald yet, getting harassed by 3 crows in a tree. Crows are mean!
Santa and I shared a moment, watching the birds before I wished him an good day. Smiling now I picked up the pace again, but I'll have to blame him for how slow my average pace became for today's workout. Not because I stopped to chat, but because he reminded me to look around and take in those sites we forget to see.
Suddenly, for the rest of my run I kept seeing birds! Not Hitchcock's version, more like a Disney sing along. They were everywhere! In a bush, souring over head, on the water, sitting on a frozen swimming pool and fighting over a twig. Everything from the eagles to crows, sparrows and seagulls. And thanks to Santa and his birds, I'm sure I no longer looked miserable.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
I want to be a community college math teacher...
Last night; A funk jazz club.
A friend and I were sitting at the bar while the young, clean cut, blond haired, double piercing guy filled a dozen glasses of water in front of us.
"My job is to keep the trays full," he told us with a flash of a smile, as he systematically lined up, filled with ice, and topped off each with water. I commented on the precision and care with which he meticulously lined the three rows of glasses, maximizing his space.
"Well I want to be a math teacher, so I'm all about math... efficiency." He explained, and his water methodology. I mean, we found out, this guy LOVED math!! He downloads problems off the internet for fun. Talking about it his face lights up. Those people who just love something and their instantly energized telling you about it. Yeah, I get off on that. Math is his life and his future. "I know it sounds really weird, but I want to teach math- but only at a community college."
Now I've done the community college thing and was so jazzed that this 25 year old, fashionable guy could like math so much I couldn't find it weird. In fact I practically jumped over the bar to give him a high five!
But his story continues, first with this history: he tried university and had an awful freshmen term so he left. Then tried the community college and now with 40 credits to his name he's ready to head back to the larger university and complete his degree.
With the water tray filled and not a drop spilled, he dumped the reality of his situation. "Yeah, I found out today I don't qualify for financial aid. I got in, and it looks like I won't be able to go." The look on his face was as if he just realized solving 2+2 would destroy the world. Crushing! Crushing me along with him. This was the guy you want teaching your kids which train will arrive at which station first and why calculus matters. Hip, young, and energized and absolutely in love with the idea of solving problems with an equal sign! And it may not happen!
I'll remember him for that. For the reality that is the financial costs of education and what it means to our society that complains our kids hate math. What it means about the value of knowledge and the stratification of access. I really hope he becomes that hip math teacher. He should be the guy that guides the next Einstien or even gets people to finally understand "x" has a meaning. Sadly I'll never know.
A friend and I were sitting at the bar while the young, clean cut, blond haired, double piercing guy filled a dozen glasses of water in front of us.
"My job is to keep the trays full," he told us with a flash of a smile, as he systematically lined up, filled with ice, and topped off each with water. I commented on the precision and care with which he meticulously lined the three rows of glasses, maximizing his space.
"Well I want to be a math teacher, so I'm all about math... efficiency." He explained, and his water methodology. I mean, we found out, this guy LOVED math!! He downloads problems off the internet for fun. Talking about it his face lights up. Those people who just love something and their instantly energized telling you about it. Yeah, I get off on that. Math is his life and his future. "I know it sounds really weird, but I want to teach math- but only at a community college."
Now I've done the community college thing and was so jazzed that this 25 year old, fashionable guy could like math so much I couldn't find it weird. In fact I practically jumped over the bar to give him a high five!
But his story continues, first with this history: he tried university and had an awful freshmen term so he left. Then tried the community college and now with 40 credits to his name he's ready to head back to the larger university and complete his degree.
With the water tray filled and not a drop spilled, he dumped the reality of his situation. "Yeah, I found out today I don't qualify for financial aid. I got in, and it looks like I won't be able to go." The look on his face was as if he just realized solving 2+2 would destroy the world. Crushing! Crushing me along with him. This was the guy you want teaching your kids which train will arrive at which station first and why calculus matters. Hip, young, and energized and absolutely in love with the idea of solving problems with an equal sign! And it may not happen!
I'll remember him for that. For the reality that is the financial costs of education and what it means to our society that complains our kids hate math. What it means about the value of knowledge and the stratification of access. I really hope he becomes that hip math teacher. He should be the guy that guides the next Einstien or even gets people to finally understand "x" has a meaning. Sadly I'll never know.
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