It was a cold, moonless, dark early winter morning, only hours after the winter solstice. The low growl of my suitcase wheels suddenly ceased as I arrived on the smoother surface of the train platform. I was the second traveler to arrive before the 07:12 train. As most people do, a man stood near the platform's center, waiting for the train. I was no exception and found my waiting spot on the leeward side of a bank of benches.
I could tell by his body language that this guy loved to chat with strangers, and I fit the bill perfectly as a woman wearing a permanent smile. The opening Deutsch dialogue cycled through the basics, the weather, the day's travels, and our little village. Where I was going, of course, elicited the most curious of his questions. I get this question often. "Are you British or German? Yes, my accent apparently tingles towards British. I did disclose that I was an Amerikanerin (American Woman). Sorry about the earworm.
I quickly saw that this younger man was, at heart, a gentleman first, despite the story building ahead of me. He unfurled the next part of his conversation by sharing the most significant moment of his life. It was 1992 on a once-in-a-lifetime trip to California. While in California, he attended a Nirvana concert and got on stage with Kurt Kobane and Courtney Love. I could see the nirvana spreading across his face. He truly treasures this one and only American experience in which he found love, slightly complicated because it was with Courtney Love.
To my continued astonishment, he further described the after-party and the next day's price. It was the after-party day story where his life apparently stopped. His closing remark came with a dropping chin and diminishing smile, "that was the greatest moment of my life." I thought, ouch, while allowing my mind to find its words as a timely follow-up.
My mind completed its computations and provided me the common ground as a way to sympathize. I followed with a slightly amazed tone, "Hey, I play music too, and I like playing Nirvana." Of course, I was taking a long shot that he played any musical instrument, but the signals were there. I was immediately rewarded with a transition to chapter two of his life. He got his first guitar when he was nine and loved playing Nirvana songs.
Chapter Two came to a close, and he transitioned into Chapter Three. After qualifying "long ago" that he was old, he continued his story. He had met an American girl in a local club long ago. She was an American soldier stationed in the area. With a slight glow, he described her beauty and commented on her unique dark complexion. "I loved her complexion," he warmly exclaimed. Then slowing, his excitement drifted into more profound memories, and the smile faded again.
He turned slightly melancholy and told me, "I would have liked to date her, but at that time, my soul was far darker than her complexion." I thought again, "ouch." My mind again was already leading my words to follow. Sorry to hear that. The dark times can be difficult. So, where are you traveling today? With the door opened to chapter three, he noted the safety lights and chines of the railroad crossing barriers initiated their warning of the arriving train. He smiled and wished me safe travels, a pleasant holiday, and a happy new year. I replied in kind.
I had to change trains twice before the airport. I debarked the R46 and hustled from platforms 1 to 3 to catch the S1. After two stops, I disembarked the S-1 and waited on track 2 for the S2 to the airport. Standing on the platform, I noted a slightly stressed young lady with a suitcase. She was like me and on some stage of a journey. My mind paused to imagine her journey and why she might be slightly stressed. I assumed she was like me at the beginning of her trip and heading to the airport.
She sensed my calm and decided that I was the person she could trust. She disarmed her posture and approached me with the ease of a daughter towards a mother. I noted immediately that she needed to gain language skills suitable for Germany. Pointing to her phone with lightly trembling fingers, I knew she was seeking reassurance that she was not lost. She only needed to see if she should board the arrival train on the platform's left or right side. It's a big question if you don't know.
The few words that did escape her lips, despite her best effort to keep them inside, told me she was ending her journey. She was coming from a place East and full of struggle. She was trying to get to her place of safety. Confident that she would survive this decision point, she put her guard back on and moved a few meters away to wait for the train. We entered the same car and opposite ends. I kept eyeing her to ensure she got off at the right platform. She did, and outside on the platform, awaited her destination. By the reaction, most likely family with the familiars she needed. The doors shut, and my journey continued along the light rail. It would be a while before my last stop and a similar welcome on this journey.
The mobile news service on my phone lit up my earphones, reporting the big storm. I almost became desensitized to the little dings when a particular ding was slightly different. The chime was the tone from my airline's app, which has a slightly lower pitch. This only met one thing, something about my trip had changed. I already knew my Chicago O'Hare stop was in the eye of a massive winter storm. Let me guess, hours and hours of delay or, even worse, canceled flight.
Flipping my finger up the screen, I did not see a delay. Odd, what is different? Why did I get this notice? Taking a closer look, I noticed that my mid-trip stop had changed from Chicago to San Fransisco. Interesting, that is a significant distance difference for a trip from Europe to the Sunshine state. Okay, I thought slightly out loud. What are my timelines? Noting the overnight trip with the next day's arrival, I suddenly felt a hint of excitement. What a fantastic surprise, I was going to fly in the sky with Santa. How lucky am I? I want to get a photo out the window "of his nose so bright."
Life continues to be the adventure I was promised. See you soon!
Observations from a journey:
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