Travelogue, Part 1


 


So there I was at Stitches in the early afternoon, realizing I had missed my class because of my unaccountable dumbassery in thinking it was in the afternoon. Therefore, no review of the third class at Stitches that I paid for but unfortunately was unable to attend (still need to see if I can contact the instructor and ask if there was a handout so all might not be completely lost). My bags were packed and waiting in the car for me, so I headed down to National Airport for my flight.

At National, I was introduced to Dolores (no, not that Dolores - though this one was also from Chicago). Dolores was one of those people you sit next to in an airport - could be anybody who wouldn't necessarily create an impression (I suppose most of us fall into this category when sitting in departure lounges). In this case, a retired 2nd-grade teacher. A few remarks were passed as we waited (she liked the color of my new Fleece Artist socks - a medley of greens ranging from new leaf to mature grass. Stop me before I start to go on about Fleece Artist sock yarn, because I think I have a new favorite). As we exchanged these desultory remarks, a sense of a personality emerged. Strong-willed, intelligent, yet somehow easygoing, with a humorous twinkle in the eye. Dolores, I mean - I can't speak for the impression I make (never having met me for the first time), but it did seem like there was a bit of an affinity.

Upon arrival at LaGuardia, there was one of those taxi lines that is about twelve miles long, with no cabs in sight. I sighed a resigned sigh and joined the queue. A few minutes later, Dolores stood at my elbow (I'm not really exaggerating - she was about five feet tall - one of those people that makes me feel like I just take up way too many vertical feet) and asked if we were going to the same part of the city. I told her where I was going, and noted that no matter what, we could drop me off, I could pay off the taxi there, and she could take the cab to her final destination. She liked this arrangement, and we started to talk in earnest, having one of those conversations where you start chatting with someone and it goes straight from "hello" to the personalities of second-graders, the art of visiting family (which she was doing in NY), and the works of Frank Lloyd Wright (I mentioned having been to Oak Park and Taliesen West - turned out she had been a docent at Oak Park). It was one of those conversations that was not so much a first conversation, but a conversation you have with someone you've known for some time.

We were so engrossed in chat that the doorman at my hotel pulled her bag as well as mine, naturally assuming we were together (which, thankfully, we realized before I got out and the cab hared off to the upper West Side). Then Dolores then passed out of my life as easily as she entered it. A very good companion, Dolores. I hope she travels the rest of her way in comfort and safety.

Posted: Saturday - November 11, 2006 at 09:16 AM         | |

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