May 27, 2013

It’s 840a in Paris, and I’m in a line of at least 1,000 people, or less, ha.  It is quiet, serene, calm.  We are all snaking around orange ribbon-lined lanes (the guard/helper is dressed in a dark suit with same-colored orange tie. Way French, very cool) – headed toward Immigration/Police auxfronteieres - Border Patrol.  I’m heading to gate F49 and everyone’s headed somewhere.  Couple in front of me has a flight in 20 minutes – likely they’ll miss it.  The snaking that we’re doing is a slow snaking.  But no one’s tapping toes, huffing and puffing, or griping.  It’s really a nice feeling.  Maybe because most of us? have flown overseas and are on different body clocks, and are somewhat sleepy.  For my body, it’s 1:30am.  After a 4 hour ‘nap’ on the plane, I feel at least coherent.  And it’s a sunny day, with lots of windows in the airport to brighten our wait.  The smell, on the other hand, is less cheerful.  When I rounded a corner coming down an escalator which brought me to a hallway of bright green glass, my nose was assaulted with a stench of poorly maintained public restrooms, or a dirty litter box.  Pew!!!  It’s not as bad in this line, but it’s still lingering.  Ugh.

I’m reminded again of Angel, who was looking shriveled and small when I left her this afternoon.  Ugh.  I’m not sure what’s going to happen with her.  

OMG!!!!  Everything is a long line!!  The walkway to the lane, thank goodness, is all glass-sided, because it’s about a quarter-mile long, or so it seems this morning.  And we’re all shoved in here, standing, waiting.  Given that it’s a flight to Naples, I’m now hearing lots of Italian, much more of a sing-song cadence to it, and certainly more lively than the sullen group an hour ago.  The sun feels good;  I think it’s chilly out – or in Italy, anyway, as I’m seeing lots of sweaters, jackets, and boots.  Yikes!  I brought mostly summer wear; I have a funny feeling I’ll be wearing the two sweaters and one pair of long pants that I brought for the better part of the trip.  We’ll see.  At this point, I’m just glad to be here, and to be awake.  

The last time I traveled to and in Europe was 20 years ago, with my dad, and I was then in my beer-drinking phase (that lasted about 35 years), so my arrival in Europe found me groggy and tired for the first day or two.  It feels good now to not have that going on.  Twenty years older, and I feel better – that’s gotta be good.

Things have come a long way in 20 years – with all the huge technological advances, the ability to call my cousin in Naples from France (or the US) is possible.  Not so my last visit here.  Unfortunately.  One time, my dad and I were meeting in, I think, either Luxembourg or Brussels, at the train station.  He arrived earlier than I did, flying in from Albuquerque, and I from Atlanta, on Delta, which we thereafter, (not so) fondly referred to as ‘the ten-minute airline,’ for its 2-3 hour delayed departure times, announced to its passengers in 10-minute increments.  As in, …”we’ll be leaving shorty.  In approximately 10 minutes.”  You get the idea.  So my flight was significantly late, and I wasn't at the train station when dad was there to meet me, or at the next train’s arrival.  Or the next, or the next.  It was crazy – he must have, in looking back on the situation, been more than a little worried.  I’d called the Hotel from Atlanta before leaving, but they said he’d checked out (?!?).  A comedy of errors, really.  So we only ever connected when I showed up around midnight to a weary but happy-to-see-me dad. Cell phones then would have been so nice.

The other way new and cool thing was a TV screen at every seat on the plane, with a ton of movies, shows, games and music – for free!!  I remember when some flights had a stereo system with 7 or 8 channels of music, comedy, sports, etc. to choose from, the dial was on the armrest, and headphones to listen cost $3.  That when beer was $2 or $3.  Now it’s $7.  Glad I quit drinking!!!  

The one thing that hasn’t changed, apparently, is airplane food.  Yikes.  I’d ordered a special meal, something along the lines of vegan/vegetarian – 'Muslim' seemed to fit the description - weeks ago.  What I got was 2 pieces of chicken over cooked-to-death LeSeur peas (my friend Moody used to call them leisure peas.  And instantaneous coffee. I miss him!), paper-like lettuce salad, a hard cucumber slice, and some scarily gooey cabbage on top.  Nice to know that some things stand the test of time.  J

OK, this is cool.  I finally got on the plane, and at row 3, realized that my assigned seat in row 25 was WAY too far back for me, so I sat down in an empty seat (in an empty row!) up front, waiting to see if it filled up.  Well, it didn’t, so I stayed and strapped in.  And I just realized that I’m in something like First class or Business.  The stewardess brought us a tube of something that I thought was a granola bar, but realized the it was a ‘refreshing wet towel,' AND I asked for a coke (I was craving a coke!), just on the fluke that she’d bring me one.  “Un moment, c’est vous plais.”  In a moment.  And sure enough, in a moment, she appeared with a 4 oz. cute can of icy cold Coke!  And set it down on the table next to my seat.  ‘Seat left free for your comfort.’  All this and we hadn’t even left the gate yet!  It’s a 2-hour flight to Naples.  I can’t wait to see what else we get!  Thank you, Angel and Dad.  J

Stranger, Cash, And Magic

 12/23/13

        It was cold, it was dark, and my porch light was off.  I’d just pulled the bulb earlier to replace it with some color more “Christmasy.”  (I was thinking red, but was swayed against it by a male friend…)  So the knock at the front door took me aback when I answered and couldn’t clearly see who was there.  I knew enough that it wasn’t a familiar face. 

“Hi.  I hate to bother you.  I’m a new neighbor, and I just locked my keys in my car. I’m waiting to get a locksmith, but he wants $65 cash, and all I have is $52.  Can you help me out?  This is really embarrassing.”

        Do you see where this is going?  If you do, you’re way ahead of where I was.  My antennae were certainly up, and I’ve given money to enough panhandlers with a line to know one when I hear it, but I went with it anyway.  (I have since recognized, and asked to be relieved of, my tendency to not want to seem distrusting of anyone – even when I have every reason to be!!)

        I had no cash on me, honestly, and told him so.  You won’t believe what came next…

        “Well, can you go to an ATM and get some?  I can wait.”

        Wow.  And you won’t believe what came next.  I said OK!!!! 

I don’t use ATM’s, so said I could run up to the grocery store, use my debit card, and get cash back.  (This is embarrassing as I write this.  I must have really been caught off guard!)  I had him come inside out of the cold, while I got my coat, keys, etc.  He then rode with me to the store, at which time he told me who all he’d bought gifts for (2 nieces in New Orleans, a sister, and, ‘of course,’ his wife), how long he’d been married, which house he lived in, where he worked, his occupation, and how much it rained in Jacksonville, where he’d just moved from. 

At the store, I asked if he wanted or needed anything. 

        “Cigarettes would be great.”  (Um, I don’t THINK so!)

        “Um, I don’t THINK so.  I’m already giving you money and extra for gas.  You can buy your own cigarettes.  I meant food.”

        So I got a juice for myself and $20, and back home we headed.  More information on the ride home.  How much their rent was, with a roommate, his wife’s former job, and where his parents lived.  Oh, and his name.  “Steve.”

        “So you want to call the locksmith now, so he’ll be there and you won’t have to wait in the cold?’

        “No, I’ll call him when we get back.  Thanks.”

        I went to drop him off at the house he said he rented (3 doors down from me), but he needed to get his bike first, which was parked in my next-door neighbor’s driveway….  Hmmm…..

        (Gads!  This is so pathetic.  I just get mad as I’m writing this.  How did I miss all this?!  Well, I didn’t, really.  I noticed it all, took it all in, and just didn’t think or choose to ask the questions, afraid that he would think that I “didn’t trust” him.)

        I dropped him off, made sure he’d be OK and said goodbye; he reached across and gave me the hugest hug before he got out of the car.  Where he headed after that, I didn’t see.  I went back to my house feeling, well, odd, at best.  Knowing, though, that I’d helped someone in need.  “There, but for the grace of God, go I.”

        I called a friend (the one who’d suggested I not use a red light out front), told him what had happened, and that I thought I might have just been scammed. 

        “You WHAT?!?  You LET HIM IN YOUR HOUSE!???”

        He was all over the safety issue. 

        “It’s not what he might have taken, but what could have happened to YOU!”

Yikes.  Quite frankly, I myself am baffled at how much I put myself in harm’s way, and yet got out of it only conversation, a sense of good will, and a genuinely appreciative hug. 

        Turns out, where he said he lived was the home of Betty, an older woman who knew nothing about a Steve, but who had been approached the same night, much later, by a man with the same story.  She’d slipped $15 through the screen door, feeling, like I had, sorry for him on such a cold night, right before Christmas. 

        There’s a sucker born every minute, I suppose.  And though I clearly fell into that category, from that situation I was able to identify and release a really unhealthy belief/behavior, meet and befriend a new neighbor (who is a TRIP!!!  She came to the door at noon in bright pink zebra-print fuzzy pajamas, cat-eye glasses, and a big hairdo!), and trust in my heart that “Steve” was an angel of some sort, allowing me to safely let my love outweigh my fear.

  I often wonder if Jesus was perceived by some to be a panhandler with a good line, and can’t help but think that I am sometimes being either tested, or offered an opportunity to give, no matter how it looks.  Maybe that’s why I overlooked all the signs of a con, and went, instead, with a hope and a feeling that gifts given that night were mutual and appreciated.  It was, after all, Christmas Eve Eve.