“Excuse me.”
That was the entirety of our conversation. I was on my Delta flight, flying from Minneapolis to LAX, to work a week at the Magic Castle. I was seated in my aisle seat, and the young gentleman was assigned to the middle. I had boarded early, and he was asking to get by so he could get set for our flight.
I plugged my music into my ears, settled back for the 4-Hour flight, and let my thoughts drift. It’s the way I cope with long flights. Turbulence doesn’t really bother anymore, and it’s become rather routine. The modern Life of a traveling showman, eh?
About twenty minutes in, I saw him fading: sleepily leaning forward and catching himself.
And then … He succumbed. He fell asleep and slowly leaned over, tucking his head onto my shoulder. For a moment, I didn’t quite know what to do. Window seat dude gave me a bemused look like … ‘wow, glad it’s not me.’
I thought about waking him up, but … Something just told me to let it be. He wasn’t hurting me, he wasn’t being inappropriate, he was tired. Weary.
And man, aren’t we all, these days?
So when he shifted in his sleep and put his hand on my chest, I didn’t mind. Apparently my cuddling abilities are legendary.
He slept, he found some peace for a couple of hours, and some human contact. Contact is good for the soul, right? I mused on why he might be making this journey, and what strength he might need to gather on his way. He found some peace, and I was fortunate enough to be the ‘pillow’ he found it on.
Shortly before we began our descent into LA, he sat up and then slowly came awake. I don’t think he ever realized what had happened.
It felt good to be comfortable being a comfort.
The Truth Is ... 