I meant to post this story before this, but I forgot. But no matter, because here I am now, paying attention to my computer instead of my cat, who is in fact putting on her best show of cuteness like standing on the keyboard and rubbing her cheek on the corner of the screen to distract me, telling you about the funny thing that happened on the way to L.A.
Background: I spent last Tuesday through Saturday in the L.A. area visiting my dad and seeing a couple college friends. I took a bus from Salida to Denver (yes, there is a bus that runs from Salida to Denver!) on Tuesday morning, met up with my dear friend Anna in Denver for a little lunch reunion, and then headed out to the airport. We ran into some traffic on the way and were saved by her roommate's mad Mapquest skills. So, we get to the airport in just enough time for me to get through security and get to the gate with 20 minutes to spare.
Here's the hitch. In my not-so-necessary rush to make sure I got to the right gate, I did in fact wait for 20 minutes at the wrong one. Operator error. I looked at the flight monitors, saw a Southwest flight to Phoenix (my intended layover spot) and went to the corresponding gate. No checking of the flight number or the departure time. Oops. BUT when I got to the gate and asked them if they'd started boarding yet for my flight, since I figured they had or would be soon, the attendant told me they were boarding Phoenix next. So, I assumed I was at the right gate and settled down to wait. WRONG.
At, let's say, 2:47, I looked at my phone and, realizing the time, started to think "Oh crap. My flight's supposed to leave at 2:50." So I walk up to the Southwest counter and show the lady my ticket, explaining how I just realized I was waiting for the wrong flight. She informs me that yes, I was waiting on the wrong one, but my flight had just pulled away from the tunnel and the next flight to Phoenix didn't leave for another 2 hours. Gah. So I ask her how she can get me to Burbank (my final destination) more quickly than that, and she says she'll reroute me through Oakland, no problem, and I'll only be about half an hour later than expected. Cool, that works. Thanks Southwest. So I park myself in a chair again and wait for the flight (but not after quadruple-checking the flight numbers at my new gate).
Because of the last minute change, I was one of the last people to board the flight and with Southwest's whole free-for-all seating deal, I figured the only seats left would be middle seats, so why not sit in the front row where there's at least some more leg room (not like I really need it) and I don't have to wait as long to get off the plane. So I sit down on the right side of the plane between a man and a woman, both in their sixties, who had apparently stayed on the plane from wherever they had come from and were headed to Oakland. The man, on my left, immediately remarks as I take my seat that he oughta buy me a drink for sitting there, because the guy who had just vacated my seat upon landing in Denver apparently weighed 400 pounds and took up almost the whole row. OK, maybe an exaggeration on his part, but I understand the sentiment. I laughed and we made small talk for a couple minutes, enough time for me to determine that he was indeed a very friendly person. As we taxied out to the runway, we turned to our respective newpapers and books and I figured that was that, because I don't normally talk to people on planes. Wrong again.
When the flight attendant comes around asking for drink orders, he (let's call him MM for Mystery Man) turns to me and asks what I would like to drink. I was taken aback and didn't know what to say, so I asked him what he was having. Red wine. "I like your style," I said, "so I'll have one too." I didn't actually expect him to go through with it, but MM swipes his card and then turns to me and starts talking. Which he did for most of the flight, except for the occasional comment I made to one of his statements. So, what did we talk about? Really, what didn't we talk about?
He started out by asking why I was heading to California, so I told him I was going to visit family. MM is smart, so he figures out that my parents are divorced and I'm leaving one of them to visit the other. This starts him off on a whole tangent about family. In the process, I learned that he works for a local utility company and has a 25-year-old daughter, a son who's 22, and a wife that he loves to the end of the world. Good. No longer any feelings of who-is-this-(creepy?)-guy. Once MM gets started on the topic of his wife, well, he might as well tell me about how they met and how he hitchhiked through 3 states on one weekend, from his college to hers, just to say hello. By now I'm thoroughly amused by his storytelling and his apparent passion for things he loves.
He pauses from his story to ask me what I'm doing with myself, now that I'm out of college. I tell him a bit about my plans for South America, and once I mention Buenos Aires, he tells me about how he was recently there. "What for?" I ask him. Turns out he was there with his daughter and her boyfriend (who I think went through the wringer, being tested in every way the protective MM), but during that time he started to set up contacts for an organization that he's working on. Of course I have to ask him about this organization. Which is when he humbly explains to me how he has taken it upon himself to help cities in developing countries improve their water quality so they can decrease their death rates.
That one came out of nowhere. So now I'm totally hooked and ask incessant questions about it. MM's basic idea is to establish partnerships between successful utilities in the U.S. and utilities in developing cities that need better (safer) drinking water. So, let's say he picks Vegas and Guadalajara (2 cities he used as examples). The employees of the water treatment body in Guadalajara are sent to Vegas for at least a month, where they shadow someone in Vegas's water treatment company that does the same job that they do back home. After the month is up, they go back home and implement changes in their own water treatment system based on what they observed in Vegas. The idea is that this puts the power of change in the people's own hands, instead of trying to impose solutions without including people in the process of arriving at them. The workers in Guadalajara see the improvements in their water quality, realize how beneficial their partnership was, and then start to pursue more training trips, but this time without the middleman to organize it.
The whole thing strikes me as an awesome idea, so I ask him if the organization has a name, or if he's looking to take on more people to help out. MM says it's just getting off the ground, really, and he's not interested in making a website or anything of the like. Shucks. So it's going to be impossible to find out more about this.
So this is probably where you all say, what's his name? Thing is, I have no idea. We didn't formally introduce ourselves when we first started conversing, and it seems kind of frivolous to ask halfway through our talk. Until he started telling me about his work. And of course, timing doesn't like to lend me a hand: our conversation continues until we're at the gate in Oakland, at which point he turns to me, says, "Nice talking to you," and leaves. I tried to write down as much info as I could remember, but to no avail. I just tried to look him up and can't find any clue as to who he is...hence the moniker MM.
So there it is, my whole long-winded tale. Things like this don't normally happen to me, so of course I'm psyched to have a story to tell. It felt pretty serendipitous, even if it didn't end in an incredible contact with some great organization. Who knows, maybe he'll show up on the news next year with this project and I can track him down that way. Fingers crossed!
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