Now, I love Bill Murray more than I love most of the people in my life, but I am not saying that I want to fall into the sort of star-crossed love that he finds in that perfect, beautiful movie. I'm not emotionally stable enough for that. But those moments? When he glances at that dumb actress Scarlett Johansson and his sad eyes hold all the unspoken words in the universe? When he lets out a breath or notices something otherwise tiny and it suddenly means the world?
Those sort of moments are the only things that keep me from being absolutely unbearable to myself and people around me (not to mention, completely miserable).
Last year, I was on a trip, mostly alone, to a place I'd never been -- not nearly as foreign, though -- Chicago. I boarded the Amtrak in the middle of the night, and the only thing that was on my mind was two of the five Kids in the Hall that I was going to see that evening. After a few hours of sleep (?), I decided to head to the snack car for Amtrak's version of breakfast.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the Scott Thompson/Kevin McDonald-fueled excitement or a combination of both... whatever the reason, I was completely unable to open the shoomp-y door between two train cars. I must have looked like a complete moron to the lucky bastards who got the extra leg space of the front-of-the-car seats -- here was a girl in pajamas and dressy boots (I packed light, okay?), kicking and shoving a door thinner than an iPhone with all of her might, to no avail. You know how when you're throwing your weight into a train car door at 5:30 a.m. for just a few moments but it feels like an eternity? I was there, fighting with the train for an eternity, and then a random passenger came up behind me. I think he swallowed a laugh before helping me finally break into the snack car.
After groggily ordering my breakfast, I turned to the dining car, only to see that every booth was occupied. The man who had helped me open the door was at one of the booths, and he offered to let me sit with him since we had shared that moment.
The next four hours honestly blur together now.
He's a composer by trade, a martial arts king (that's a thing... right?), one of those artsy types who seems to know a little bit about everything. He asked me questions that made me question myself and more sure of myself simultaneously and he didn't seem at all fazed by the odd glances I caught occasionally by the other ragged travelers.
The moment I realized our conversation was special was when he asked what brought me to Chicago, and I muttered Scott and Kevin's names like they were no big deal because, let's face it, unless you say "Pastor Dave from That 70s Show," 98% of America has no idea who you're talking about -- and even then, they usually just go "Oh, him..." in that way that you just KNOW they have no idea who this guy is, but they just want to shut the crazy fangirl up. Anyway, he instantly knew who I was talking about and proceeded to crush the heads of the other passengers.
A few times throughout our breakfast, I caught myself glancing out the window, in an attempt to ground myself in reality. Somewhere in my sleep-deprived mind, I was convinced that the entire trip wasn't real -- it was too good to be true on so many fronts and this perfect new friendship threw itself into my lap. The pitiful scenery that is rural Route 5 definitely kept me on earth.
He and I talked more than I have ever talked with anyone -- both in number of topics and in depth. We watched western Ohio and the entirety of Indiana pass by the dining car windows as we discussed our personal lives, our goals, our views on religion and politics and the real issues -- Kids in the Hall and Saturday Night Live. Seriously, though; you name the capital-t Topic, and we covered it.
Before we headed back to our seats to properly watch Chicago come into view, we exchanged phone numbers and added each other on Facebook. In the past almost-year, I've kept up with him as he's traveled throughout Asia with his wife, and he's always made a point of commenting on my status updates whenever I take a trip.
I honestly have no idea if I'll ever run into him in person again, but as much as I would obviously love to, I would not be disappointed if I did not. That trip to Chicago was a BIG coming-of-age thing for me -- my first time traveling completely alone with no one to meet me when I arrived, my first time spending my own hard-earned (ha!) money just because, my first time meeting ~famous~ people, etc. The friendship we developed felt instantly understood, in that cliche "omg, it feels like we've known each other forEVER!!!11one" sort of way.
I'd like to thank Evan for keeping me a little less than purely cynical. Our meeting is one of those things that's going to stay with me for a long, long time. I know that to many people in my life, one of my faults is that I get too attached, too excited. But that's only because I know how good it can be. I know (and crave) that feeling of sharing something, anything with a person -- the closest friend or a relative stranger. That feeling is why I do theater, it's why I love live comedy, and it's why I keep going, even when most things in my life are horridly mundane.
No comments:
Post a Comment