i was never the person who can start a conversation with a stranger on a train, plane or any other means of transportation. i'm still not. i sometimes imagine i do it. but that's it. truth be told, i'd like to be one.
me sitting happy on my window seat, ignoring everything else. old nice guy comes and sits next to me. i ignore, thats what i do on a plane. so he sits down and turns towards me with a big nice grandpa smile on his face and says "hello!". i'm caught unaware, taken out of my comfort zone but in the same time pleasantly surprised. i reply and smile, then, without anything clever to say, i take out my book. he looks at it, smiles again and asks me: "were you born in india?" i stupidly mumble "that would've been very nice". i'm surprised by the question. maybe it was shalimar the clown that provoked it, sitting on my book cover. he tells me he wants to go there someday and i see optimism, that even i dont have, in his usage of "someday" at the age of 70+. i tell him i'm planning the same. a bit later, browsing through his magazine, he shows me this incredible india add with a tiger and growls. he's hilarious. we dont talk much but theres nice chemistry. :) he takes out his book which has a german title by a complicated and unknown author. i could've asked "were you born in germany?" but didnt and couldnt come up with anything smart to say. when the food comes, he funnily pokes me to put my tray down. i feel safe in an unreasonable way with him on the left. the plane lands. i say goodbye, he says goodbye and thanks me. no idea for what, but i felt like thanking him too. only i didnt.