Zig Zag #7

Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

There seems to be a pattern developing as I tell my stories from my Zig Zag life: Transportation and Travel.

I’ve met some of the coolest people while stuck on various modes of transportation.

There was the cartoonist from Los Angeles who gifted me with a funky character hastily drawn on an airplane napkin.

There was Mel who had been married 55 years to the love of her life. She reminded me the best is yet to come.

There was an IT consultant who was obsessed with frisbee golf and traveled around the country with a group of friends to check out the best courses.

Ahh, then there was Charlotte. She was a career coach I had the pleasure of chatting with on a red eye flight. She told me to follow my heart because it always knows the way.

The truly beautiful thing? All of the chance meetings and observations are quality writing fodder.

That’s why one of my favorite things I love about being a writer is my ability to observe people in the ‘wild.’ It’s my sneaky ability to observe people while they are just being themselves. No pretense. Nothing for show. Just people being people out in the world.

I keep a notebook on me at all times to record short little character sketches for later use. In the past 10 years, I’ve collected over 40 writing journals. Each and every one of them is filled to the brim with gems of bits and pieces of stories. Scenes I made up inspired by people I observe in the world. It’s all fair game.

If you haven’t already noticed, I have a special place in my heart for airports. That’s one of the best places to people watch. Travel can bring out the best or worst in people, and it can be fascinating to witness. People are so complex and layered, and in these moments I catch only a tiny fraction of who they are. But that’s when the fun begins. I take that tiny fraction, and I let my imagination run wild.

My imagination got one such running workout when I was waiting for my flight to Whitefish, Montana. I was heading there for a writing retreat. My very first! We had an assignment before we even got there. Of course we did.

I had to use my powers of observation to pick a few people around me at my gate and make up a story. This was my kind of homework assignment. I grabbed a cup of coffee and settled in my seat causally glancing around waiting to be inspired.

Ahhh, there they are. That’s Betty and Ted. An older couple facing me and to my right. They were settling into their seats at the gate in Austin. Were those their real names? I have no idea. But that’s who they were in my story. I sat for a minute or two just watching them. Not in a creepy way, but I slyly took them in by noticing tiny details. A glance. A subtle touch. There is so much life and love in those tiny details. This is Betty and Ted’s story…

Betty sat down next to Ted at their gate with a sigh. She was anxious to start their journey. As they settled in their seats waiting to board the plane, Betty turned to Ted with a smile.

“Pre-check definitely…” Betty said.

“...speeds things up,” Ted finished mirroring her smile.

“Yes!’ Betty smiled knowingly.

After 40 years together, it never surprises Betty that she and Ted can finish each other's sentences. That’s what happens when you share a life with someone like they have. You start to sync up.

Betty and Ted sat in companionable silence staring out at the runway. Betty fiddled with an annoying string at the hem of her sandy beige and white striped shirt. Ted bounced his foot up and down creating a small earthquake in his vicinity.

Betty glanced down at the nervous twitch of his Nike’s against the ground. She put a calming hand on Ted’s arm. “It’s going to be okay.”

Ted glanced down at her through his frameless glasses before taking a hesitant sip of his coffee.

“I hope so.”

Ted rested his hand on Betty’s tan capri’s and started tickling her knee through the soft fabric. Betty giggled like a school girl more in reassurance than in a reaction to being tickled.

It felt good to be close to Ted. Especially now. Betty and Ted were experiencing a new kind of intimacy through all of this.

To divert attention from the small elephant in the room that kept trying to poke its head between the black uncomfortable airport seats, Ted commented, “Hey, is that a new purse? It’s huge!”

Betty laughed at the sheer banality of the question but understood his tactics.

“Yeah. It’s nothing much. I see it as a tool. I don’t see it as something fashionable.

Ted gave a hearty chuckle and scratched his salt and pepper beard appreciating his wife’s practical nature.

“Well, depending on how you use it depends on the size you need, I suppose,” Ted said.

Betty nodded in agreement.

They both turned their attention back to the runway waiting for their zone to be called. Betty opened her hand on her lap. A silent knowing settled over Ted as he slipped his hand into hers.

Reaching to adjust his Bass Pro Shop hat, Ted took a long gaze at his and Betty’s fingers laced together. Knuckle knocking gently against knuckle. He had memorized every line, every wrinkle, every vein and every sunspot on her hands. Every touch on his arm. Every pat on his back. Every cup of his chin. Every stroke of his cheek. Her hands told one half of their story. Tangled up with his, it was hard to tell where hers ended and his began.

Ted lifted Betty’s hand to his lips and took in a long inhale. She smelled of bread and vanilla and oil paint and years and memories. God, how he loved her hands.

What was happening next in Ted and Betty’s world? I have no idea. This was all that was written in this particular journal. There are so many possibilities here.

A few months ago, I went through those 40 writing journals I mentioned above. This sounds like it could be an end, but in a completely separate journal that I used years before I found Betty and Ted's story, I wrote a beginning that very well could have been theirs. This story was inspired by a couple I observed on the Washington, D.C. Metro in the middle of rush hour. The names are different. But they can easily change…

As Kate skimmed the morning headlines in her New York Times on the train, she had that creepy, hairs-sticking-up-on-the back-of-her-neck feeling someone was watching her.

She slowly turned her head to the left. Old lady working on her crossword puzzle. Couldn’t be her. Kate cautiously turned her head in the other direction. Empty seat. Hmmm…

Back to the morning scan of violence, corruption and heartbreak that took place while the city slumbered.

There it is again. That feeling that someone is staring.

Kate slowly lowered her newspaper enough so she could glance at the bank of seats across from her.

There was the oggler. Kate quickly turned her eyes again back to her newspaper. She glanced up again. Yup, he’s still there. Still staring.

He finally said something. A slow crooked smile spread across his clean shaven face as he asked, “Excuse me, have we met before?”

Good gracious. If this man’s eyes weren’t such an alarming shade of blue, Kate would have ignored him completely.

The man leaned forward.

“No really, I feel like we’ve met before.”

Kate sighed and reluctantly folded up her newspaper. She finally gave this man her full attention.

Wait a minute. Yes. We have met before.

Kate was in a particularly sassy mood this morning. She didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction of recognition. Not after the night she just had. She didn’t need this right now.

Kate plastered her best fake smile on her face and brushed her ginger strands from her face.

“No, I really don’t think we have.”

“Gosh, I'm pretty sure I could never forget meeting a pretty face like yours.”

Oh wow.

Kate was a millisecond from rolling her eyes out loud, when the man laughed.

His large hands went up in surrender. “Okay, that was pretty cheesy. I apologize.”

“My name is Griffin, by the way. You know, in case you were wondering,” he said with a wink.

“Mmmm, I’m not sure I was.”

That’s not the entire scene from my journal. It’s just a snippet. I absolutely loved finding this story. It was just a scene or two. When it stopped, I really wanted to know what happened to Kate and Griffin. How had they met?! What happened to Kate the night before?! What’s going to happen next?!

I read both of these stories out loud to a few friends, and one of them suggested that Kate and Griffin could possibly be Betty and Ted. It could be the beginning and the end of their story. Should I change the names and weave these two stories together? Or keep the names as is and create a story around the witness protection program where the couple had to change their identity? Ooohhhhh. I could take this in so many different directions. See why I love being a writer so much?! So much creativity and possibility!

Sigh. There’s just something so inherently romantic about planes, trains and automobiles.

I’m not the only one who's had a zig zag life. My fictional characters certainly have too ;)

I wish you a zig zag kinda week. Until next time.