DON'T TALK TO STRANGERS

I feel excited, nervous, naïve, and filled with unbridled ambition. I am in my senior year of high school, and I won one of the most prestigious awards for a high school student, the Aimee Poisson Grant for Journalism. The grant is awarded to the crème de la crème for high school students. I, with fifty students, will study with some of the world's best journalists for three months. We will stay in dorms at the Université de Paris. The committee will give us a translator, and they have arranged personal tours in Paris for us.

My picture was on the front page of my hometown's newspaper. My parents sent copies to all our relatives and friends. No one had ever won anything like this, they all said, especially from our little town of 1200 people. Crystal Town is a small dot on the map. We are located about 100 miles from the central city of Columbia, Ohio. If one is a fan of Hallmark movies, imagine one of those small cities featured, and we all would be waving at you.

My Journalism teacher was shocked and close to fainting when the news arrived that one of her students was such a high honor winner. All my classmates gathered around asking me questions, wanting to know what I would do in Paris for 3- months, would I see The Eiffel Tower, would I eat at any of the fancy restaurants, would I visit the Louvre, how long is my flight, and will I be afraid going all that way alone.

A few days later, the town threw a massive celebration in my honor. The Mayor of our little town gave a speech, and my teacher spoke about how proud of me she was. She said she always knew that I was an exceptional student, and one day I would be a great Journalist. It was so exciting to have everybody cheering for me. I was overwhelmed by all that emotion.

I was finally glad to get home and start preparing for my 13-hour flight. My mom and dad, plus my little brother, all came into my room to tell me how proud they were. My little brother Reggie hugged me, which he never does. Most of the time, we argue that he bothers everything in my room or me yelling about how he monopolizes the remote control.

That evening my mom cooked all my favorite foods. She kept saying that her little girl would at least have one good meal because there was no telling what they would be feeding me in Paris, and she heard all the people who lived there just drank wine. My dad looked across the table at me and smiled. We both knew she would be a wreck, with the thought of me flying alone, all the way to another country. I smiled at my dad, and I kept eating, telling my mom that the food was excellent.

The next morning, we all drove to the airport. My mom kept asking me if I had everything, and I would just say, "Yes, mom." My brother Reggie was using his time to make crazy faces at me.

We finally arrived at the airport, which was an hour away. My dad drove up to the departure lane, and he and my brother removed my luggage from the car. We did a group hug, and my mom gave me all the instructions moms give. I was 18 years old, but at that moment, I felt as if I were 8. I had never gone longer than one night's stay away from home. The nerves began to set in, but I did not want my parents to notice. I assured my parents that someone would come and meet me upon my arrival in Paris. I would also call them once I arrive at the layover airport. We all hugged one last time. They looked so sad. I gave them a big smile, and I went through the automatic doors to start my three-month trip in Paris.

I found my seat on the very crowded plane; I hardly remember the person who sat down beside me. I was focusing on the flight attendant. I was admiring her hairstyle and wondering how I would look with my hair like that. I kept thinking of my parents and brother, remembering how sad they all looked as I walked into the airport. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the flight attendant telling everyone to fasten their seatbelt and turn off all devices because the aircraft was taking off.

I leaned back, looked out the window, and saw the airport become farther and farther away, as I thought, no turning back now.

I looked at the passenger sitting beside me and saw him writing in a little black notebook. It was fancy with initials in gold embroidery. I did not realize I was staring so hard until I heard him say, "Is this your first time flying"? I tried not to show how embarrassed I was, and with a grin, I said, "No." I lied.

I apologized for staring at his black notebook and explained I am a writer, and I was thinking how cool it would be to own a notebook like his. He seemed surprised at my answer, and for a short moment, I noticed a puzzled look on his face.

He asked where I was traveling? I began to tell him how I won the grant, and I was on my way to Paris, but I had a 3-hour layover in Atlanta. I rambled on about how I was a senior in high school and how exciting Paris would be. I told him about my mom's thoughts about Paris cuisine. As I spoke, I could hear my mom's voice in my head saying, Raquel, don't talk to strangers, so I stopped talking as fast as I started.

He then formally introduced himself. His name is Frederick, and he was on his way to Atlanta for business and visit with relatives. He is originally from Atlanta, but he travels extensively for business. He had been to Paris once and toured the city. He told me the food was bland, nothing to write home to mom about. He said my mother was probably correct in her assessment of all the wine drinking that takes place. However, Paris was magnificent, and everyone should experience it at least once in their lifetime.

We continued to talk, and before I knew it, the flight attendant was saying, "prepare for landing." Frederick and I said our goodbyes and wished each other well. We left the plane, and I immediately began searching for the departure gate for Paris.

An announcement came over the speaker- all flights, for Paris, were delayed up to 6-hours. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to my surprise to see Frederick. He said he felt terrible that I would have to sit at the airport. He then invited me to see a quick tour of Atlanta, he had a car waiting, and he promised to have me back, well before my flight departure. I was hesitant at first, but then I thought, 6 hours, I told him, yes, but I needed to call my parents first to let them know of the delay. My parents told me to be safe and keep them posted. My mother told me, Raquel, don't talk to strangers, and I said, "Okay, mom."

Frederick and I left the airport, and the car was waiting. We both agreed we were hungry. He directed the driver to one of the best restaurants ever. We placed our orders and continued talking about all sorts of things. He asked me more questions about journalism, which I was quick to answer. I did notice that he had started ignoring specific questions I would ask him. He never really elaborated much. The food finally arrived. I had never tasted lobster or any shellfish. I felt guilty eating such deliciousness.

We only have small restaurants in Crystal Town; my mom does not like eating at any. She says her cooking is way better than all of them. My dad told us the story of when he took my mom out to dinner. My mother complained about all the food; the food was very bland, no spice. My dad says the food was delicious. He said my mom complained because she thought he would prefer to keep eating out and not want the wonderful meals she cooks. They never dined out again.

Frederick and I finished our meals; he left a rather generous tip. The driver was waiting for us, and Frederick asked him to take us to Fields Bookstore. There are several Fields Bookstores located throughout the U.S., to my surprise, there was a Matilda's Cafe inside.

I told Frederick I was going to grab a magazine and get a latte from Matilda's. He said great, and off he went. We agreed to meet in an hour. I briefly turned around and saw Frederick going into an office. Frederick appeared at Matilda's within an hour, and off we went. He asked the driver to stop at a bank. I continued to read my bookstore magazine, and within a short time, he came back.

The driver whisked me back to the airport. Upon arrival at the airport, Frederick exited the car with me and handed me a bag. He told me not to open it until I got on the plane. I said sure. I thanked him for the meal and told him how much I had enjoyed the day. Once again, I was going through the automatic doors. Frederick said bye Raquel, with a massive smile on his face. I smiled and entered the airport, walking fast enough to make sure I did not miss my flight.

I finally settled into my seat on what would be a long flight to Paris. I was exhausted, but I was too excited to sleep now. I wondered what was in the bag that Frederick had given me. I opened the bag and saw a little black notebook with gold engraved initials. They were my initials. Frederick saw how much I had admired his black notebook. It was such a thoughtful gift. On the cover was a note. I began to read it. It said, "Raquel, after spending such an enjoyable day with you, I know you have a great love and passion for writing. You are so well-read for such a young lady of your age". Go to Paris and take in all it has to offer." Enjoy every minute spent in Paris, and do not forget to breathe. One point to keep in mind when you become a journalist is:

<<THE PEN IS MORE POWERFUL THAN THE SWORD>>

I began to cry so hard, the lady sitting next to me asked if she should get the flight attendant. I told her no. The note I read filled me with joy, and I always cry when I feel that much happiness. I looked back down at the message, and there was a signature, Frederick Fields, C.E.O. of Fields Bookstores. I was in shock; I had just spent the day with the owner of one of the largest chains of bookstores in the United States. I could not believe it. I continued reading the note; it said to turn to the 8th page. I could not make this up if I tried; laying there on the 8th page was an official bank check for $20,000. I saw my name on it. I darn near fainted on the lady sitting next to me. All I could remember now was my mother's famous last words, "Raquel, don't talk to strangers." My tears turned into laughter as the plane ascended into the clouds.