Out of the Mouths of Babes

Most of y'all will be quite surprised, but I'm actually happy that I was seated next to a real life, washed in the blood of The Lamb, self-proclaimed Alabama "good old boy" on the Detroit to Amsterdam flight yesterday afternoon!

If I'd had a crystal ball, and had known I'd wind up stuck at the gate at Detroit Metro Airport for four--count 'em--FOUR HOURS, I would have risked complete mental collapse. Mostly in a good way, because while I had an absolute blast with friends in New York and DC, I also ran myself ragged, too. And shouldered a half a ton of guilt for not contacting or seeing everybody I wanted to contact or see. When I caught that Super Shuttle to JFK Airport Thursday morning, I was praying for a non-eventful, on-time journey back to Nairobi.

Maybe the half hour delay out of JFK to Detroit should have been my first sign, but I chose not to acknowledge it. By the time I headed to seat 25J on Flight 252 to Amsterdam at Detroit Metro, I was planning to pull on my Bose noise-canceling headphones, slam a few Tylenol PM and sleep through most of the journey. When I got to my row, this lanky, perky-looking young man in a bright orange t-shirt and a baseball cap looked up from his book, smiled broadly and chirped, "Great, now I have a seat buddy!"

The Rachel of a few years ago would have rolled her eyes and thought, "WTF?? Have I been seated next to a reject from "Up With People?" But this guy's friendliness totally disarmed me. So I smiled and said, "Well, let's hope you think that when I start snoring in a few hours!" He laughed, helped me stow my bags overhead, and then started talking--for the next few hours. Usually in those situations, unless it is a gorgeous man not wearing a wedding ring, I can be terse as hell. On long haul flights, I just want to get caught up on my reading, listen to my music and sleep as much as possible. But this kid, who we'll call "Christian" for reasons alluded to above, simply would not shut up.

And I loved every minute of it!

In fact, his overall positive energy and sense of humor made it a lot easier to handle the news that one of the engines wasn't working, and that because the snowfall was getting heavier, we'd need a lot of de-icing. Then we heard that the engine part they thought they had wasn't there, so they'd have to send for it at another terminal. In the past, I might have squirmed, rolled my eyes, cursed and muttered under my breath at these announcements, but Christian just shrugged and made a snarky comment every time. And then he'd say something like, "Life's too short to let this stuff get to you." Or, "I'd rather be safe than dead, so let 'em fix the engine."

That junior at Auburn University was just as bubbly and friendly and completely without guile as a big old St. Bernard! Christian was headed to a five month stint in Istanbul to coach an American football league there, and was really excited about his first time living abroad. Several times, he professed his love of Christ without the least hesitation, but he wasn't a zealot about it. In fact, we talked more about TV and movies than religion. We even talked about race. He mentioned that his great great grandfather was a Confederate colonel, and that his family had owned slaves, but that things in Alabama were different today. I told him that as a black woman with locked hair and dark skin, things were mostly cool for me, but that I could still feel the impact of racism in America. We talked a good long while about it, and I could see he was getting more and more comfortable to speak his mind.

Christian was at his cutest when he talked about girls and relationships. At several points during our wildly divergent conversations, he would mention how he didn't have a girlfriend, or how he was clumsy around girls, or how he hadn't had a date in ages. This from a young man who was 6 foot 3 inches tall, a former football player himself, and who kinda resembled a younger Ashton Kutcher. I finally looked him square in the face and said, "Well, what's wrong with you?? Because from what I can see, you are an attractive, charming, friendly, funny guy. And you don't seem shy. So, what's the deal?"

He was totally taken aback. I'm sure nobody ever broke it down for him like that, but then he'd been warned I was a journalist, so he handled it fairly well. Then he mentioned wanting to have children before he was "old," like his parents had done. They'd married around age 25, but took a decade to travel and just enjoy each other's company before having Christian and his sister. They're 55 now, so, oh, yeah, that makes Christian about 21.

He wants to have his kids within 5 years, he said. And then Christian asked me, "Do you ever think about having kids?"

"Oh, sure," I replied. I did NOT add, "I've been thinking about it for about the past 28 years, brah." I just said that I'd focused so much on my career, I never really prioritized babies.

Then, without blinking, winking or choking on his words, Christian asked, "So, do you think you'll have one in the next 5 or 10 years?"

This was when my Number 2 New Year's Resolution had to kick in big time: stopping my automatic tendency to reject compliments, and to quit using self-mocking humor to defuse emotionally uncomfortable situations. I almost bit my tongue in half to keep from saying, "Dude, fertility doctors would need the Hubble Telescope to locate my shrunken ovaries! What are you, blind??"

You see, I'm still having trouble believing that kid couldn't detect the obvious signs of menopause in bloom....the fine sheen of sweat, the layered clothing, the air vent pointed at my face on full blast. I mean, he's a 21 year old Alabama frat boy--surely during one of his biology classes somebody explained to him that after a certain age, women lose the power to procreate--and that the woman sitting next to him on that delayed flight had delayed childbearing just a wee tad bit too long?

But then I relaxed, exhaled, and accepted the wondrous compliment that this 21-year-old Alabama frat boy had just paid me. He had looked me square in the face and concluded that I was at least 10 years younger than I actually am. I gave him my brightest, widest smile, and said I still might adopt someday.

In fact, if Christian was ever in the market, I'd gladly adopt him! At least I would have, if just before we landed, and were receiving our orange juice and snack, Christian hadn't turned to me and said, "Boy, you sure were right about that snoring."