When I was younger, I looked for serendipitous encounters by talking to as many strangers as possible. I was infatuated by the fantasy of meeting one’s lover on a plane. I was a pre-teen. It never happened. But I did try.
If the person on a plane wasn’t wearing earphones or sleeping, I would say Hi. I did this even if they didn’t fit my idea of prince charming. Maybe they had a friend or cousin or child who was. I travelled with my mother but we rarely sat together. We flew economy on Southwest.
En route to Colorado, I talked to an elderly couple sitting next to me. They both have white white hair and maybe they have wisdom to share. I would be the lucky inquirer to reap it all. The conversation didn’t last long but they were friendly. To them, I was probably an overactive Asian kid they couldn’t ignore. I felt like I made friends.
I’m in LAX, sitting next to a wall socket to charge my phone. My mother is outside looking for my dad. I start a conversation with the man sitting next to me. He looks like he’s in his 30s. He wore clothes that enlarged his body and gave him an imposing presence. Perhaps we started talking because he also needed to charge his phone.
I was looking for photography clients at the time. Me, a budding amateur photographer. He told me about his budding tea business. Perfect. I asked to see what his tea business had to offer. He pulled up his website, and I got confused. The website was dark and grungy. I zoomed up close to one of the product listings. He was selling erotic teas.
I remained polite, got his phone number and told him I would be contacting him later. My mom came to fetch me. I ran into the car and screamed in incredulity. I shook away my nervousness, laughing.
I’m on a plane again. My mother is rows ahead and out of sight. I’m a bit older now and more selective of who I choose to talk to. I’m also sleepy. This is going to be a red eye. I choose not to talk to the man next to me. He’s wearing headphones anyway. Hours later, I wake up and the man is looking at me. We exchange pleasantries and he blurts out: “I wanted to kill you.”
I wanted serendipitous love not serendipitous death. I asked why. He couldn’t sleep through the red eye and here I was, fast asleep. Not anymore.
I became more fearful of strangers. In my innocence, I didn’t see myself as a woman vulnerable to unwanted advances by a man, death or otherwise. But I am. I now enter the cabin with earphones already on. I don’t bother the people next to me and they don’t bother me.
I’m flying on my own this time. I can’t sleep because I’m crying. I’m in the middle seat and I wipe my tears with the sleeves of my folded T-rex arms. The lady next to me hands me a tissue, the kindest gesture I could receive in this moment. We talk.
She’s a nurse-in-training. She was flying back from a spontaneous trip with a boyfriend she knows isn’t going to stick around for the long term. I told her I knew a boy like that. We exchanged pictures of the boys and laughed. I told her why I was flying back to LA. My mother is sick and I’m leaving college early to be with her. She told me about her father, who passed when she was young.
I felt surprisingly comforted by the fact that she was still here, intact, with relatable boy problems. We became friends on Facebook but we haven’t talked since. We didn’t need to.