Bubble Talk

So, back to Gate 29 at the Washington National Airport. I find myself back at the circular communal table clustered around the center of the atrium area, flipping open the notebook while sitting out the half hour delay of my homebound flight. An older business woman takes up a seat on the other side, checks her Treo, shuffles a few things around her person, then settles in.

Chorus of moans greet the PA announcement of further delays of a La Guardia flight. Men in badly wrinkled dress shirts, obviously distressed from the day’s worth of work, peck on their notebook computers. I turn around to a loud voice on a telephone to discover a man dressed in suit with an air of self-importance, barking requests and orders into a blackberry pressed to his ear. (I always find people TALKING on their clunky blackberries somewhat ridiculous.) Haggard faces appearing and disappearing into the crowd, people taking hurried bites out of their burgers, and businessmen chatting about vigorously – it’s the typical scene at the airport on a Thursday afternoon.

I find myself relishing this bit of a breather between one schedule (work and the frenzied drive to the rental car return) and another (the flight, and pending evening plans with friends in Chicago), reminiscing about a woman with whom I’ve shared this very same table just a few weeks ago. We just shared a light hello and a parting greeting – three phrases max – but what she said (“have a good flight”) and the light hint of a casual smile in her eyes was so memorable that it stirred a very foreign emotion that lasted well after we’ve parted ways.

Despite a myriad chance to share light greetings or indulge in a light chat, business travelers rarely initiate a conversation without a suitable excuse. After all, the dozen or so travelers sharing a compact space within easy conversational reach all do their best to erect an invisible, unbreacheable enclosure, using tools of their trade – be it a Blackberry, a copy of the Wall Street Journal or just staring intensely into blank space when there’s nothing handy – and most seasoned business travelers know better than to disturb the defense shield frivolously. For example, say you have a window seat, and by the time you reached your row, your middle seat and aisle seat neighbors have already settled into their slots, and you’re trying to squeeze past them to get to your seat. Even a direct question, “hi, may I pass through?” is usually met with silence and a slightly annoyed stare as they struggle lazily out of their seats like zombies slowly contorting as they rise to their feet.

I don’t recall if that woman at the table was even attractive; I just remember being startled by having my force field pinged by an unfounded greeting – and how refreshing it felt.

I hear my flight calling for boarding. I get up, notice my tablemate staring blankly at the table surface with earphones in her ears, impervious to my packing and shuffling. I drop a casual pebble in her force field.

“Have a good flight.”

I can see its ripple as she looks up somewhat startled, not sure quite why this total stranger would say anything to her. Her puzzled look meets my smiling face.

“Yeah, you too.”

She breaks a bright smile, the whole face.