Mile Nerd

Being Neighborly

Whirlwind last month for me.

Numerous flights. Multiple cities. A variety of subpar meals at 30,000 feet.

Fortunately, my greatest passion in life is observing people. So, I decided to get to work. While in the air, I conducted in-depth research about our fascinating species. Studying passengers. Compiling pages of notes. Nodding enthusiastically from the back of the plane.

So many lessons were learned. My friends, this is a banner day in the travel industry. Without further ado, I present…

The top 5 ways to be a great seat neighbor on your next flight:

1 – Begin a very loud phone call right as the boarding process commences. Ideally, increasing your volume as you enter the line. Inane conversations work great. And, based on my observations, those are pretty much the only types of phone calls people make.

But don’t overthink this. Your conversation can be work-related, flirty, or an intense argument. Doesn’t matter. Just as long as it remains loud. See, people in airports are starved for entertainment. So, the key thing to remember is that all of your calls should take place via speakerphone. This does involve some imagination. You’ll need to mentally convince yourself that you exist in a time without earbuds, headphones, or AirPods. Much like an actor going into character.

Now, I know what you’re wondering…

How long should this incredibly loud conversation last?

Great question. Attempt to keep it going until the exact moment a flight attendant threatens to confiscate your device. Or until airborne. Unfortunately, this will mean no more entertainment for your fellow passengers. But fear not. You still have wifi on your smartphone. Which means a long journey through the sky – plenty of time to enjoy a John Wick film. Or possibly the entire series.

(Important note: Remember to stay in character. You still exist in a time without headphones)

We now arrive at a fundamental question…

Do people on airplanes really want to sleep? Of course not. The seats are cramped and uncomfortable. They only nap because of boredom. Your fellow passengers want one thing most of all – to be emotionally moved by Keanu Reeves. So, crank up the sound. Mimic the explosion noises with your mouth. Seat neighbors and flight crew will appreciate your kind spirit.

Sharing is caring.

2 – Have children. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. That’s a pretty big sacrifice just to be a good seat neighbor. But, really, what else are you doing? Just view it as an opportunity to get freaky and have a bunch of unprotected sex. Who doesn’t want that? And, just a few short months later, a child will painlessly appear. Super easy stuff.

Now comes the childrearing…

Important step. You’ll want to do this in a very specific way. Because normal is another word for boring. There should be no resemblance between your baby and all the other lame, “well-behaved” little munchkins out there. Life is for living. Your spawn will be a screaming, moaning force of nature. One who routinely terrifies the rest of the airplane. Why is that so important? Because fear of your baby will distract the other passengers from their fear of flying. See? This is the kind of person you are. Routinely thinking of others.

Sure, it won’t always be easy. But greatness never is. Soon after takeoff, the old guy across the aisle will start muttering vulgarities to himself. Others will silently wonder if you brought a demon baby into the world. Fair question. A flight attendant might even Google, “How to do an exorcism.” Yes, your child will wail. Long and hard. Quickly driving the entire cabin to the brink of insanity. But you must stay strong. Their vacation will start in a few short hours. And it will be the best one of their lives. Because they’ll feel more gratitude to be on the ground than ever.

They’ll owe it all to you and little Damien.

3 – Have you ever noticed the power of music? It transports us. Makes us feel more alive. Don’t you dream of giving that type of gift to the world? Well, if you don’t play an instrument, no problem. This one just takes a bit more planning. You’ll need to arrive at your seat ready to put on a concert of sorts. Which takes dedication. Preparing for the day much like a high-level athlete would. You’ll need to eat all the right things, do breathing exercises, and relax yourself. Really get into a gassy state of mind. Then just let it rip for the duration of your flight. When I say “let it rip,” I do mean that in the literal sense. Now, if you figure out a way to time your toots in a rhythmic pattern? Even better. Just remember to vary the notes. Long and slow bass sounds are great…but follow them with quick, high-pitched squeals. Truly great musicians have range. The goal is to be extremely consistent. Keep your song playing until all passengers have exited the aircraft. Don’t be alarmed if they depart in a hurry. That’s simply because they need to catch connecting flights.

Does your impressive stamina deserve a platinum status of some kind? Of course. But, remember, you aren’t in this for trophies or applause. You are simply sharing your gift.

4 – Much like on the ground, it’s so important to take care of your body while in the air. What matters more than our health? Without it, we have nothing. And, if we want to help those around us, we need to stay in tip-top physical shape. Which means learning to set boundaries when necessary. For example…

If someone in front of you attempts to recline their seat, don’t just sit there in silence. That could lead to cramping. Or even muscle spasms. So, push back. And, to be clear, that’s not a figure of speech. Literally push back on their chair with all of your force. It protects your space and is one of the best shoulder/tricep workouts you can do on a plane.

I know what you’re thinking…

What if they don’t like it?

Well, let’s be real. That’s entirely possible. As you know, people are often unreasonable. Someone might even turn around and explain how they’re using their seat in the exact way it’s designed to be used. In that case, do not engage. Just close your eyes. And allow yourself to drift peacefully to sleep. Stress is the enemy of good health. And proper rest is a key ingredient when trying to stay in top physical condition.

Side note:
Airplanes do get very quiet. This lack of sound tends to make your fellow passengers very uncomfortable. It’s unsettling. So, if you do snore, that wonderful trait will help greatly as a way to cut through the deafening silence. And try not to think about the irrational person in front of you. Most Americans agree that reclining should be outlawed. No doubt about it, the other passengers will fully support your healthy lifestyle. They will take notice of your commitment to fitness.

5 – I have one final revelation to share from last month’s in-depth research.

Probably the most important lesson of all.

Yes, physical health is critical. We all understand that. But mental health is just as essential. And, far too often, it gets overlooked. We’re so busy looking after everyone else that we forget to have fun and relax in our lives.

An airplane is the perfect place to rediscover your joy. On the ground, you reside in a buzzsaw of activity. Always playing catchup. Never enough minutes in a day.

But in the air?

Hours of free time.

As soon as the drink cart arrives, it’s important to start ordering alcohol. Since you’re not driving, this is a great opportunity to cut loose. You should tell your flight attendant that the reclining person in front of you is picking up the tab. This is what’s known as an “olive branch.” It tells the inconsiderate recliner that you hold no grudges. Everyone makes mistakes. And you forgive them for their soon-to-be-felonious act of selfishness.

When’s the next time you’ll have a stretch of free hours like this? Hard to say. So, really try to cut loose. Alcohol is a very effective relaxant. One without any side effects or consequences. Find your bliss. Drink to your heart’s content.

-If that means busting out some of your favorite show tunes, by all means go for it. Your fellow passengers will undoubtedly sing along with you.

-If that means letting out some stress and breaking down in tears…this is the perfect location to do it.

Bottling up your emotions is a slow death. Don’t you deserve better than that? By the time you land, a heavy weight should be lifted from your shoulders. You should feel reenergized. Far better equipped to take care of those around you.

Oh, and if you happen to fall asleep after drinking copious amounts of alcohol?

Just make sure to stretch your legs in the aisle. It will prevent injury. As well as providing a fun activity for your fellow passengers. They will find great entertainment in trying to climb over your dangling limbs. You’ll provide them with a much-needed form of exercise. They’ll be able to stretch their own legs in the process.

See? Even when asleep passed out, you’re the kind of person who helps others.

Happy travels, my friends!

(Note: Any resemblance in the above writing to people on my recent flights is purely coincidental)

Thousand Oaks

Multiple disclaimers before we begin…

Disclaimer 1:
You’ve probably noticed how I try to balance out heavy posts with funny ones. We’re due for the latter. But something happened. There’s no way to avoid talking about it. And, yeah, it’s crazy this happened right after last month’s post.

Disclaimer 2:
Each month, I edit and proofread these posts to get them right. Which takes a lot of time. Please forgive any written sloppiness this month. I won’t be doing any proofreading. I don’t think I have it in me to keep reading and editing this.

Disclaimer 3:
With post-retirement MileNerd, the goal is simple – to connect with you. That’s the reason I write this way. And about all these subjects. If I’m not super vulnerable here…there’s literally no reason to do it. But, this month, I do have one additional goal…

I want you to know what it’s like (emotionally) during those crazy stories you see in the news. You know the ones. The thing is, I was in the middle of one of these stories recently. An incident where a man (who had just stabbed two people at Walmart) drove through a group of children. I sincerely hope you never have to experience this type of thing. But it feels like it might be important to share what that moment feels like.

Disclaimer 4:
If you have any personal history with this type of event, I don’t want to trigger any pain in you. Please skip this month’s post if the above paragraph feels too close to home.

(End of disclaimers)

It’s a bit fuzzy, but here’s what I remember…

A casual Tuesday afternoon. Taking in a matinee with my girlfriend, Linda. Discounted tickets and recliner seats? Yes please. I mean, who can turn down a Nic Cage vampire flick? Well, probably most people. But we sure enjoyed the hell out of it. After the movie? No big plans. Just a slow drive home. Probably some takeout on the way back.

We drive around the corner of this picturesque suburb. The kind of place where you never hear a car horn. At a red light, I watch as high school kids cross in front of me. Heading to their bus stop. I say, “Man, I remember so clearly how big I felt at that age. But they’re still such babies.”

I look back at the red light for a moment. Then I notice all the kids scurrying right next to me. I look to the side – at a car completely flipped over and smoking. How is it possible I didn’t even hear a sound?

Surreal.

(Just the start of many more surreal thoughts and feelings to come)

I quickly put the car in park and turn the hazard lights on. There are children laying on the sidewalk with deep wounds. Scattered shoes that flew off from the impact.  

(To be clear, I have no clue what an expert does in a situation like this. All I can share is how it felt. And my main recollection is that everyone seemed to be in various states of shock)

I call 911. It’s busy. So, I keep calling. Still extremely confused about how I didn’t hear anything. And trying to take in all the chaos around me. A car flipped over? Driving through these kids?

I keep trying to get through to 911. But, even as I’m doing it, there’s a kind of blank confusion. That’s really what it feels like more than “shock.” A foggy blankness.

Now, I have no idea if vehicles really explode like they do in the movies. But I see smoke pouring out of this car. I see liquid, that I assume is gasoline, dripping from the bus stop. It’s my main concern. I yell to Linda and the kids who are still standing:

“GET BACK FROM THE CAR! IT’S SMOKING!”

Again, the feeling is surreal – even while saying the words. It’s happening but it’s not happening.

Much like a dream state.

Fuzzy.

Confusing.

In the meantime, Linda is crouched down with Charlotte. A 15-year-old girl laying on the sidewalk. She’s in pain from a broken leg. Deep wounds up and down her arm. She says she wants her mom – and that she drives a black car. Charlotte, like everyone else, is in a very confused state. Linda says she needs to check on Wesley. He’s farther down the sidewalk and is convulsing. His body is violently twitching.

I notice more shoes on the sidewalk. How many kids were hit?

Charlotte cries and says, “Please don’t leave me.” Linda assures her that she’ll be right back.

Over by Wesley, his young classmate and friend Alex appears to be in total shock. Saying, “I saw him breathe – and then he didn’t breathe again” in a very confused way. Wesley is no longer moving or breathing. Linda tells Alex to say something to his friend. Speak to him. Alex asks, “What do I say?”

Nobody knows what to do. Linda says, “Just keep talking.” But she knows what she’s looking at. I finally get through to 911. Help is on the way. Linda now appears to be in a state of shock too. Whispering, “I think that boy just died” with a haunted look on her face. She’s completely pale. I still have a hard time shaking that image. Or the image of Wesley’s body shaking.

We go back to Charlotte. And another boy, Joey, who lays next to her. He says, “I broke my leg.” The words come out of him in the calmest way imaginable. Softly, he says, “I can’t find my phone.”

A man walks by saying he thinks another body flew over the ridge. But he says it in a way that indicates he’s not all there either. People are just kind of wandering around. For some reason, it’s not fully occurring to me that a boy has died. It’s like part of my brain doesn’t want to grasp how serious this is. My own state of shock, I guess.

I realize Linda’s car will block the path for paramedics when they show up. I quickly jump in and re-park around the corner. I run back to the scene, still worried that the flipped over vehicle will blow up.

This is a busy street with dozens of cars around. Nobody is driving anymore. But hardly anyone has gotten out. Only a few scattered adults are there with us. I don’t think it’s coldness or cruelty. Fear is no doubt a factor but it really just feels like everyone’s brain is having a hard time grasping how serious this is.

Charlotte knows she’s hurt. Just not sure why. She asks, “What happened?”

Another girl walks around holding her injured arm. It seems like it might be broken. Linda asks if she’s ok and the girl doesn’t respond. Almost as if she doesn’t hear the question. There’s a zombie-like energy with people wandering around in a state of confusion. Wesley’s younger sister is there too. Right in the middle of this uneasy sort of calm.

I’m not sure how to explain what our brains are doing. But it’s not normal. I’m in the middle of a moment where I don’t seem to be doing much of anything. At one point, I ask Joey if he found his phone. I even start looking for it. Why? I have no idea. It’s just a few seconds of that. Because the cops show up incredibly fast.

The sheriff starts checking on Joey but Linda says go to Wesley. He needs more help. The look on the sheriff’s face is almost like he’s in a war zone. Maybe he knows who the driver is and that it wasn’t an accident. Earlier, a kid tried to break through the glass to let the driver out. We find out later there was a gun in the car. If the driver hadn’t flipped over, how many kids would have died? Was his plan to drive through them and then start shooting? He went to this high school a few years earlier. Was he bullied? Is this some sort of revenge?

The sheriff appears to be in a state of shock too – but it’s different. He has the tools to keep functioning. He’s performing tasks. Not wandering aimlessly. He and his colleague start tying yellow strings around the injured kids. I don’t know why. Maybe to indicate who needs help when the paramedics arrive. They yell for everyone to clear the area. We stagger away. In the same dreamlike state. Foggy. As we approach our car, two teenagers walk by saying, “Oh he’s dead” in a very casual tone. Their brains are not really grasping it. Even as they say the words. We get in the car and Linda immediately cries those primal tears you only hear a handful of times in your life. The ones that come from somewhere deep inside. After seeing something truly awful.

And then we drive home.

In a complete fog.

In the days that follow, it feels like one uppercut after the next. Realizing Wesley did die. And that it wasn’t just a horrible accident. It was the murder of a child that we saw. I realize that I’m so desensitized with all those crazy stories in the news. At this point, we all are. It’s like we almost have to be…just to get by. But, man, it’s such a different thing to experience. Even if you look at something huge like 9/11 – maybe there’s really just one difference between thinking “that’s so sad” and being rocked by the devastation. And the difference is being there.

Because then it’s not just a story.

It’s part of your story.  

But then there’s another level. A much deeper one. Something I have a hard time even imagining. Wesley was on his way home to celebrate his mom’s birthday. What is she going through? What happens to his little brother and sister?

My eyes well up whenever I think about it. I can feel the aching in my heart when my brain goes to those thoughts.

I watched him cross the street five seconds before.

And then I watched him die.

That next Friday, Linda and I wondered what plans Wesley would have made for the weekend. And we didn’t even know him. We’ve talked frequently about that day. Hugging each other a little more than usual. Dreams are extra vivid right now and often very disturbing. The frequency and intensity of those images will reduce over time. But it won’t (and can’t) be something I ever forget.

I hope you never end up in a situation like this. And I really hope this kind of thing never touches anyone you love. But, if you are ever in a moment like that, it’s almost like you have to try and snap yourself out of the fog. Because it doesn’t feel real in the moment. Your brain won’t be your best ally. Our brains have been known to protect us in some strange ways.

I changed the names above. Other than Wesley, of course. Whose name has been released publicly. Their family friend put up a GoFundMe page to help with funeral expenses. The goal was $15,000. Within a week, the total donations hit $250,000. So heartwarming to see such care and support. But, obviously, what that family wants is something more than money.

I hope you’ll read this and hug your loved ones today.

Everything can change in a second.

Day In The Park

You’ve spotted him in passing. On the outskirts of your life.

He’s never with a buddy, there’s no way he has a wife.

In the produce aisle, he loiters. Strangely vacant type of stare.

Often sitting at your Starbucks with a cup of old despair.

Much like Pigpen from the comics in the orbit of his dirt.

Cloud of sadness over this guy. More than just an introvert.

You wonder, “What on earth could cause that level of decay?”

He looks so lost, detached from life, you cannot glance away.

Thoughts moving with velocity, you watch him as he goes.

Growing more unsettled now – what danger might he pose?

Lacking passion, we have nothing. You can see that he has none.

Could this be the kind of person who might show up with a gun?

That outcome unrealistic for all others you have known.

A sensation you feel strongly – he’s somewhere deeply all alone.

Can’t shake the possibility. Your questions still unsolved.

But, with just a little digging, this one might yet be resolved.

You fasten on your research hat to figure out his deal…

Observing him in public (your attention you conceal).

Growing frightened by this stranger, just so raw and out of place.

In such a tranquil neighborhood, no room for this nutcase.

The fragrance of his energy? Impending sense of doom.

At least your quirky neighbors act like humans in a room.

Just a glass half full of sanity is not too much to ask.

Right then you notice, in the park, he’s sipping on a flask.

The moment has arrived, wake up, you tell yourself inside.

“This time I will transcend above my tendency to hide.”

You summon all your courage as you charge across the grass:

“I know what you are up to. YOU NO LONGER GET A PASS!”

But when you land in his vicinity, you’re met by this surprise:

He’s not drinking any liquor and there’s moisture in his eyes.

On his lips is not a flask – it’s just a picture in a frame.

He kisses it so gently while your body fills with shame.

This man you viewed as dangerous once lived a different way.

Maybe sitting at the table where his daughter used to play.

Or perhaps the very spot where he once got down on his knee.

And now, this private moment, as he makes a silent plea.

A huge miscalculation, you can see it all so clear.

The one thing left to do, for you, is quickly disappear.

He’s so fully lost in memory and hasn’t seen your face.

You grab this opportunity. Your feet begin to race.

Humiliation rising – how did your radar go so wrong?

Someone’s heart completely broken…simply trying to hang on.

Head down, now sprinting fast you run. Back in your car with haste.

This spotlight burning hotter on “gut feelings” so misplaced.

You perceive the worst as instinct, now it penetrates your soul.

Unless you shed this habit, you’re about to lose control.

You say it in a whisper, “Worst assumptions aren’t fine.”

“Somehow I’ve lost my way. Enough. I need to draw the line.”

In this moment comes a lesson gripped so tightly in your hand:
Never again forgetting…
All that surrounds you are journeys…

You can’t fully understand.

Note

We interrupt our monthly storytelling for a quick administrative note.

I’ve gotten a few questions about this over the last year. Just wanted to quickly post my answers here to eliminate any confusion…

Yes, I’m aware of a blog that has tried to mimic the style of pre-retirement MileNerd.

No, I was not contacted about that beforehand.

Yes, there are some differences that don’t align with what MileNerd was about.

No, I am neither flattered nor bothered. Because it doesn’t belong to me. Obviously, that blogger has the right to do what he wants with his website. I did, however, ask him to remove the comparisons to MileNerd. Which he quickly and politely agreed to.

Yes, I wish that blogger the best. Truly. He seems like a nice and very smart man. I’m glad my years here made such an impact. I’d happily meet for dinner or drinks like I would with any of you. But, again, no current miles-and-points blog has any affiliation with MileNerd. There is no connection.

End of note. Back to our regularly scheduled storytelling next month.

Ice Man

It happened 30 years ago.

To a sports-obsessed kid with thick glasses and abnormally large teeth. Not to mention, a pair of legs that even chickens would call skinny. Basically, all the makings of a future hall-of-famer. Ok, maybe I wasn’t destined for the major leagues. But, man, did I love the game. All of them, actually. Baseball, football, and basketball came first. But the obsession also included old fogey sports like golf and tennis.

(Editor’s note: I have no clue how to spell “fogey” since I’ve never used that word in my life)

Back to our story…

On this particular day, I was in the big city. Pittsburgh. Just doing my civic duty – dropping my aunt off at the airport. Dragged on another lame mission by these pesky parents. Groan. You know what kids love? Sitting in a car for 90 minutes to run errands in another city. Let the good times roll. I buried my head under a hoodie with my trusty yellow Walkman. Old buddies MC Hammer and Billy Idol would ease this pain.

Walking past the gates, I contemplated whether airports are the worst place on earth…

Wondering if anything cool has ever happened here…

But then something caught my attention. What’s with this big crowd? Also, why are people running through the airport? They’re all heading in the same direction. And a bunch of them are my age.

I decided to question a random kid. He answered quickly on the run:

CRAZY-EYED KID
The Pirates are landing right now!

ME
Wait, did you say the—

KID
Yes! They’re landing here!

And, with that, he disappeared around a corner. I couldn’t see much, but there was an obvious buzz in the air. And then his words finally hit me.

WAIT, THE PITTSBURGH PIRATES ARE HERE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!

See, the Pirates had clinched the pennant. Led by their MVP. Part human, part superhero…

Mr. Barry Bonds.

This man was the exact opposite of me and my physique. Carved out of stone. No thick glasses. Extremely normal-sized teeth. The dude was Iron Man and Thor rolled into one. And he was about to enter this very airport.

What were the odds of this miracle? I begged my parents to stay until the team showed up. Getting to cheer on the division champs as they arrived back in town?? Life just doesn’t get any better than this.

And then it did.

My parents waited patiently in the background while I made my move. Right into the eye of the storm. Weaving through walls of fans clad in yellow. Dodging any obstacle in my way with the precision of a ninja. Slithering all the way to the front of the crowd. Bruce Lee would have approved. Within minutes, the players were exiting their plane. Suddenly, they were walking RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME.

We cheered wildly for these conquering heroes. Showering the division champs with buckets of love. And, then, there he was. Last but certainly not least…

The MVP.

Barry Lamar Bonds.

The crowd erupted. Nobody louder than me. I thought the roof might fly off into the night. This airport was rocking. And, as he came into focus, a few kids ducked under the makeshift rope. Greeting him with pats on the back and high-fives.

Wait, we can do THAT??

Without a second of hesitation, I shot out of a cannon. At least that’s what it felt like. Nothing would stop me now. Ducking under the barricade, sprinting to Bonds…so eager to share this moment. Feeling like a mini Jackie Chan. Unfortunately, I was more of a spaz than Jackie is. I miscalculated the speed and energy of my windup. Too late to stop now. With a giant crazy smile on my face, I reached back to give Barry Bonds a pat on the back and…

Hit him WAY too hard.

Oops.

Oh well, I’m just an excited kid whose face is 98% teeth and glasses. He’ll understand. I mean, I’m just so thrilled to m—

Uh-oh.

The dude whipped his head around, glaring at me like I was a grown man trying to start a brawl at the local dive bar. We were face to face now. I really wanted to apologize but my mouth appeared to be completely frozen.

Say something.

Anything.

No luck. Just a total freeze job. He stared at me with fire in his eyes. The kind of anger I hadn’t seen since showing my mom the most recent report card. How did I manage a C+ in math? I’m literally Indian. Anyway, focus. How do I fix this situation? In an ideal universe, I’d be able to speak actual words. But that’s currently impossible. So…

Is Barry Bonds about to knock me out of Allegheny County?

(By my count, this moment lasted for approximately 7 hours)

And then…mercifully…he was engulfed by the other, less-spazzy kids.

Somehow, I survived to live another day.

(Hey, maybe the freezing wasn’t so bad after all. Y’know, if I spoke, I actually could have made things worse)

CUT TO:

Last week.

A man stands in line at the post office. Salt-and-pepper beard. Tooth size proportional to face. This particular guy is quite a bit older than Barry Bonds was then. Not sure where the time went. But this man is me.

Still a sports fanatic. Still a bit spazzy. Just no longer armed with the boundless energy of youth.

A woman walks in. Hair unkempt. Racing straight to the clerk in spite of a very long line of customers. With a thick New York accent, she begins yelling at the sleepy postal worker.

LADY
My card is stuck in the machine!

CLERK
Ok, I’ll get someone to help you soon.

LADY
I said my card is STUCK in the machine!

CLERK
Ma’am, if you can just wait a minute–

LADY
–MY CARD IS STUCK IN THE FUCKING MACHINE!!!!!

(Everything stops. All eyes moving from iPhones to real life. The crowd is now fully engaged)

CLERK
Ma’am, do not speak to me like that.

(The lady looks down at the floor. For a very long moment)

LADY (softly)
My card is stuck. Please help me.

She walks back out to the infamous machine. Very quickly. Her eyes glued to the ground the entire way. Seemingly shocked by her own outburst. Once she disappears from sight, the murmurs begin. A few nervous laughs. Multiple sneers.

All the usual reactions.

A full buffet of awkwardness.

It’s my turn at the counter. I tell the clerk I’m not in a rush. Asking:
“Do you want to help her first? Just trying to make sure you don’t get killed, bro.”

(My contribution to the awkwardness)

A lady at the next counter bellows, “She already left. Fished her card out and looked super embarrassed.”

“As she should be,” adds an old man from the back of the line.

I finish my postal errands and walk past a Toyota in the parking lot. It’s her car. And she’s crying softly inside of it. Engulfed in a storm. She certainly doesn’t seem insane. And I can’t imagine she’s dangerous. Just looks like a person having a very hard time. Obviously, I don’t know a thing about her. Whether something was done to her today. Or long before. Maybe some urgent need to get that card back? Possibly to make it to a job she’s barely hanging onto? For all I know, it’s a paycheck that could be the only thing between her home and living on the street. It’s even possible I witnessed someone having the worst day of their life.

I don’t know if any of that is true.

Because I have none of the facts.

(And, clearly, I’m not a defender of disrespect)

But, looking into that car, it just feels like this person could desperately use a friendly interaction. A kind word or gesture. Maybe I have 5 seconds to provide a tiny moment of warmth?

I really want to say something. Even just ask if she’s ok. Something human.

But instead?  

I freeze up.

Much like I did 30 years ago. The same way I have on many other occasions in between. All such different types of moments. But, in the end, it’s still a freeze job.

Screw that. It’s not my responsibility. And it isn’t my business. She was obviously wrong. This doesn’t concern me. I shouldn’t butt in.

(Even just to ask if she’s ok)

(Even if I know in my heart that she’s in need of kindness in this moment)

I keep walking…start the engine…drive away…

Reminding myself on the road home…

“I shouldn’t butt in.”

I seem to say things like that a lot. And it’s logical. Most things are, in fact, not my business. And, yes, I often could make things worse.

But there’s a nagging flip side here.

Looking back through the years, I’ve never felt good about these freeze jobs.

Maybe you can relate.

All the times we couldn’t speak. In all the different ways.

Maybe it’s easier to think stuff like…

“I could make things worse” or “I shouldn’t butt in”

…than it is to find the courage.

Maybe we just say those things to feel a little better about ourselves.

Or maybe that’s just me.