Love on a plane

This past weekend, I traveled to St. Louis, MO to attend my 1 year college reunion (we're a tight-knit people; don't judge us). I decided to wait until Wednesday night to do all of my laundry and find my floor beneath the numerous things that can accumulate on a floor in 3 weeks. Like most things in my life, it seemed like a good idea at the time: staying up all night to clean. I also figured 2am on a weeknight was a good time to wash and deep condition my hair. While I was at it, I added packing, eating, catching up on Glee and shaving my armpits to the list. I managed to do all these tasks with minimal (and by minimal, I mean multiple) distractions.

My original plan did include sleep, but the best laid plans of mice and men are...something something something... Who knows. I bet they don't include sleep. Anyway, 4pm creeps silently in and although I've rearranged my crayon collection, g-chatted, watched half of a random movie and planned a weekend of outfits (with alternates provided for sudden mood changes), I have not slept.

I drive to my grandmother's apartment so she can take me to the airport. I am convinced that I'm not sleepy, but I listen to very crunk music on their 40 minute ride there...just in case. In the 20 minutes it takes to drive to LAX from her apartment, I manage to fall fast asleep. I do not remember falling asleep; I just...did. I stumble out of the car and groggily check in. I somehow manage to shuffle through security without any spontaneous bouts of narcolepsy and I am beginning to feel somewhat awake by the time I get to my gate. There are only 20 minutes until boarding time, so I set my alarm and take a cat nap. My alarm sounds for an entire minute before I wake up. I gather my things and prepare to board the plane: group 3, seat 35D (an aisle seat...ew). I think to myself, I should be on the plane in 5 minutes and then I can sleep for 4 hours.

Suddenly I realize that I have fallen asleep again. I awaken, startled, to an empty terminal and the threatening sounds of the last boarding call. Why did no one wake me?!! I zoom onto the plane as fast as grogginess will allow and they nearly let the aircraft's door hit me where the good Lord split me. I am frazzled by the flight that almost wasn't. Sleep deprivation has dulled my motor skills and I bruise 38 knees on the way to my seat. When I finally arrive at my seat (when did they start making planes so long??), my neighbor demonstrates her tiny act of love.

She is entirely too happy for 6am and she is about my age and height. I don't even notice her until she invades my frazzled space with her kindness.

"Do you need some help?" Bright smile, eager nod.

Blank stare. Confusion. Sleeplessness. "...huh?"

"Do you need some help?" Still bright. Still eager.

I haven't even lifted my bag yet...just rolled it from place to place. I guess it can't be that heavy. Besides, why is she offering to help me? I don't look like I need help, do I? No need to inconvenience her...I'll just do it myself.

"Oh no...thanks, but I got it." Friendly, 6am-appropriate smile. Polite.

"No. You need help. Here...let me help you." REALLY bright. REALLY eager. She says it like I don't really have a choice and is out of her seat before I can protest.

Stranger Girl walks with me until we find an empty bin (not an easy task on a full airplane). I am still confused by her niceness, but too sleepy to argue. Why are we so resistant to kindness?? I begin to lift the bag and realize that 7 outfits and 2 pairs of shoes are actually pretty heavy. She takes the bag from me like it's hers, pops it into the bin, smiles cheerfully and walks back to her seat.

"There you go." Simple. Selfless.

"Thanks a lot. You didn't have to do that."

She smiles and shrugs. We sit next to each other and don't speak another word. All the previous frazzle has dissipated and Stranger Girl is still smiling. I feel...seen and we both fall asleep in comfortable silence.

Her act of love is complete when I overhear a man offer to get her luggage down for her when the plane lands. She smiles and lets him.

Love looks like a smiling stranger.