5:00 am
The other night, I was scrolling LinkedIn and saw the profile of a guy I met in an airport bar years ago. We were both headed to Florida. Me for a cruise, and him for the bachelor trip of his friend’s second marriage. Somehow, we both thought it was a good idea to get the weekend started early with a red-eye cocktail (it’s always 5 pm at the airport—I don’t make the rules).
Anyway, there I was, wondering why this mousey sales-bro had chosen to sit directly next to me when the bar was basically empty.
So we’re sitting there, his luggage spilling over mine, both idly sipping our respective drinks when he asks:
“Where ya headed?”
“Florida for a few days, then bahamas. Annual girls’ cruise.”
“Me too! Bachelor trip!”
And that was all it took for him to completely open up.
He’d left his wife and children so he could take this trip, but let me know he wasn’t staying the entire weekend like the rest of the guys because he had to get back to his newborn. They rented the Big Brother house. He was so excited to show me all of the photos from the Airbnb listing. I was excited to see them. And for him.
Then he mentioned that he actually didn’t want to take this trip. He was disappointed in his friend for causing his first marriage to fail, and told me (and him) that this would be the last bachelor trip and wedding that he’d be a part of, so he had better make it work. I understood.
We talked about our favorite spirits and how our choices had changed so much from college to adulthood. We talked about marriage and how hard he believed it to be, and how he felt his wife was completely out of his league (she was beautiful).
And throughout this randomly placed airport meet, I thought about how refreshing it was to have met someone new. Someone I’m sure I wouldn’t have spoken to in any other setting. And vice versa.
We exchanged Instagrams, texting throughout the weekend to share updates on our drunken adventures. It was fun and interesting seeing life through his lens. I felt like I had made an unlikely friend—knowing it was just for the weekend and that I’d probably never see or speak to him again (I didn’t). And that was okay.
But seeing his LinkedIn profile and reminiscing on our parallel weekend got me to thinking about the gift of the present, and how much good is in the right now that we often mistake for the mundane, or otherwise, miss out on completely for various reasons.
Then, that got me to thinking about permanence and attachment. We’re always looking to assign meaning to something, knowingly or unknowingly. We’re always looking ahead into the future to determine what this right now thing could turn into down the line—be it two months or two years. And if that thing doesn’t prove to have meaning, isn’t stimulating or beneficial in some way, it’s automatically discarded from the life experience. I’ve been guilty of that.
But like… What if we all just slowed the pace a bit? Realized that permanence isn’t our birthright, nor should it be attributed to everything we’ve been blessed to come across and experience? What if we all adopted the yutori principle? Taking a moment to look around and actually breathe in our surroundings, or actually meet the eyes of passersby for an opportunity to share a smile? Or to wave at or shake the hand of someone new? Or just to have a moment to ourselves to gather thoughts?
G, wherever you are, I hope you’re well.
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