traveling encounters

One of the things I love most about traveling is those chance meetings which help you pass the time on the train or plane, provide a couple good laughs, teach you about another place, person, or culture, and connect you with someone else, leaving you happy to have done so.  On this road trip, I set out to reconnect with friends and family who I don’t see very often; however, in the process I’ve had a few fun encounters outside the box.

***

“K__ D___?”

I was heading out of the East Grand Rapids library one afternoon, my bike helmet in hand, when I stopped myself, turned around and called out the first and last name of the woman I had just walked by.  Sure enough, despite the fact that it has been seven years since I last saw her, K___ had also turned around in startled recognition.  At Hope College we had met through our mutual interest and involvement wiht the theater program.  Circumstantial friends in college, I had lost touch after graduation, so I was startled to suddenly run into her at the EGR library.

It turns out that K___ is still teaching 6th grade at a magnet arts school in the area and was  stopping by the library on the way between school and a church meeting.  It was fun catching up a bit in the middle of the library, and we exchanged phone numbers.  So, I gave her a ring a week later, and we made plans to meet up on Saturday for the Fulton Street Farmers Market followed by breakfast at a popular local joint.  It was exciting to hear what she’s been up to during the past few years, but sad to hear about some more recent personal challenges.  At breakfast, we discovered that she attended the same church as the friend with whom I was staying, so I made plans to meet up with K___ at the 9:40 service.  (Calvary is one of those mega churches with multiple services of over a thousand people per service, so you really do need to make a meeting point!)  In the end, my chance meeting with K___ was a blessing in the sense that I felt encouraged by her joy and vibrant faith in the midst of the challenges and uncertainty surrounding her personal life.   She reminded me of the powerful influences of our community and the belief in a God whose grace sustains.

(Grand Rapids, Michigan)

***

“So, you’ve read them all already?”

The question came from behind me as I replaced yet another new hardcover book to the shelf at The Tattered Cover bookstore in Denver.  It was probably at least the fifteenth on that particular shelf that I had picked up, perused, and returned its place.  I turned around to place the voice and found a youthful, middle-aged man sitting in one of the tall-backed armchairs in this little nook of the store.  Dressed in a black turtleneck tucked into slim black jeans with a pink cap on his head, it came as no real surprise to me to learn part way into our conversation that he was from New York City and SoHo in particular (South of Houston…pronounced “House-tin” in the city.)  Sauve, playful, and erect with legs crossed, his eyes danced as he realized he’d caught me in my window shopping.  We started chatting, and it turns out that he too was traveling, although unlike me he had no route planned out.  Denver just happened to be his first stop where he had rented an apartment for a month.  He took great delight in this adventure that I’ve embarked on as I described it to him.  And thus I probably spent an hour chatting with a New Yorker in the corner of an independent book store, trading traveling stories and future destinations.

(Denver, Colorado)

***

“Would you want to keep dancing later?”

Having driven just over an hour to Lincoln in order to tango, I threw my stuff down on some chairs at a table in the bar, and ran off to the restroom immediately.  When I came back out, I was a bit thrown off when I found that the table had disappeared (although my things on the chairs were still where I had left them).  A young man sitting nearby turned around with an outstretched hand and introduced himself as N__–the table-stealer.  N__ also became my first dance of the evening during which I learned a bit of his “dance life story.”  (Every dancer has one…and we generally love to talk about them :))  The tanda ended, and we headed off the dance floor and N__ introduced me to a couple of other people from the small Lincoln tango community.

I danced with a bunch of other people both following and leading during the next few tandas.  However, I did notice that N___ is one of those men that is always dancing and asks absolutely every woman in the room.   (Of course, in a small tango community like Lincoln’s that’s not too hard to do!)  Still, I like this quality in a dancer and try as much as possible as a follower to accept a request to dance–at least the first time–from any man who asks.  (Of course, if you’re hurting me or drunk or have no idea what you’re doing and not learning, I might decline the second time :))  Later during the milonga, N__ and I danced again, and this time he asked if I’d be interested in heading out somewhere else in town after the milonga was over to keep dancing.  Looking for clarification since I knew that this was the only milonga in town that night, he explained that he likes dancing all styles (blues, west coast swing, tango, salsa, etc.) to whatever music the DJ’s playing.  Although slightly odd, I thought what the heck.  I have nothing else to do tonight.  (The friend I’m staying with was out on a date of sorts.)  The only hitch was that I’d have to give N__ a ride home since he had carpooled there and the other young woman wasn’t interested in staying out later.  As it was on my way back to Omaha, I figured I could handle that.

So when the milonga ended around 10:30 p.m., we headed out.  (NYC milongeros will understand how comical this is since milongas in the city only begin around 9 or 10 and many of the good dancers don’t show up until 10:30 or later.)  After N__ had walked his first ride back to her car, we headed out on the town, stopping by a famous blues club The Zoo Bar where he knew the man at the door.  We must have passed at least two or three more people that he knew on the sidewalk before we arrived at the Bricktop (which was only a few blocks away itself).  (I had that feeling of being with my brother E___ who is one of those people who seems to know everyone.  For instance, when the carpet cleaners showed up at my mom’s door in August, I opened it and the first thing the man in front said was, “Are you E___ D___’s sister?”  Yeah.  There aren’t many D____s; we’re probably related :))  So it was that I was introduced as the dancer from Pennsylvania who was visiting a friend in Omaha and had driven out to Lincoln for a milonga.  Among the many upsides of being out with someone who knows everyone is that you can pop into places without paying the cover!

So once at Bricktop, we headed straight to the mainly empty dance floor (I guess the college kids were more interested in parading around drunk on the street in their Halloween costumes that night).  With our stuff thrown in the corner and our shoes changed again, we hit the dance floor improvising whatever to a constant mix of dance and hip hop music, only breaking once for water.  Dancing is always one of those few activities in which I can only live in the present.  My brain forgets to think and gets a good rest for the evening.  Plus, when you find yourself matched with a creative and playful leader, it’s just plain unadulterated fun.  So for a couple of hours, I got to play Jennifer Grey’s role in an unchoreographed version of Dirty Dancing.  Around 1 a.m. I finally called it quits knowing that I still had an hour’s drive back to Omaha.  However, we made a small detour to the top of a parking garage (which took us several tries since most of them were already full) in order to get a “bird’s eye view” of Lincoln.  Thus the picture….

Although I had headed to Lincoln rather grumpy about the night out on my own (and the fact that small town tango communities tend to be rather limited), I had one of the most fun and freeing nights in a long time.  Dancing is one of those places of deep joy…particularly in community with others.  And I learned on the drive back to his place that N__ has dealt with some huge personal challenges which have resulted in great loss in his own life during the last few years.  But dancing has become a source of joy and connection with other people; it is, perhaps, a manifestation of grace in his life.  To hear a story like his is a reminder of the road we all walk from brokenness toward a place healing and thriving.  And as I’ve been reminded, some people choose to go down that road dancing.

(Lincoln, Nebraska)

 

November 2, 2010