I've had a laptop for years, but I've never used it as such. Sure, I've sat with it in my lap, but it's been in my own home. If I've brought it with me on a trip, I wouldn't open it up until I reached my destination.
So, here I am, blogging on a bus. I could have written this entry on my iPhone if I wanted, but that would have caused me to be more terse than usual (do I hear a few people saying "good idea"?)
Using my laptop right now is not the bigger news. In the last paragraph there's mention of an iPhone. This is no small thing. I have never had a cell phone, never mind a "smart" one. It tickled a few people that I went straight from using landlines and landlines only to an iPhone, but I'm pretty comfortable with it. I did have an iPod, after all.
What I'm not used to is walking own the street while talking to people who are not with me. Nor am I used to the people I'm talking to on the phone expecting me to be inputting information on a device at the same time that I'm walking. I'm going to sound like the definition of an old fart here, but walking, talking, and taking notes simultaneously seems nearly impossible. Do I really need to get a hang of this way of life? I'm not sure.
That slick broker who showed me the high-end cellblock sized apartment sure could walk, talk, make notes, text, and do god knows what else all at the same time. I did notice, however, that he had an impossible time looking me in the eye when he spoke.
I'm having a bit of trouble concentrating how. My writing feels stilted. I know I'm distracted. I'd rather be looking out the window, but it's pitch black out there. There's also a small movie screen above my head flashing images at me that I'm trying to avoid.
Do I sound like I'm complaining? I'm not. I like being plugged in, as long as I don't feel an obligation to do so. I can leave my cell phone on a table and go out. I can also leave the laptop in my bag, as I did on the first leg of this journey, and I'm glad I did, for I had a wonderful conversation with the person sitting next to me. After listening to a podcast about how "insane' the teenage mind is (no - it's not just our perceptions, say the experts), I enjoyed the company of a 19-year-old boy (man?) for
nearly three hours.
I learned that not all business school students are boring lockstep creatures, for one thing. We talked about history, the global economy, the difference between the immigrant experience of America and the non-immigrant (he was Korean), and finally, about food. Both our stomachs started grumbling. Unfortunately for me, I'd eaten every carrot and celery stick I'd brought, all my honeydew melon, and couldn't conceive of eating any more raw almonds to temper my appetite.
One can not get healthy food at Boston's South Station. If you're ever passing through, keep that in mind.
I settled on a carrot muffin. I inquired "how sweet is it?" and the guy behind the counter said "It's not healthy, if that's what you wanna know." Looking around, I saw only McDonalds and one other chain whose name I forget and figured it was my healthiest option. The counterman started telling me that he brings homemade halal food wherever he goes, adding that in his opinion, fast food was all about "excitement." Excitement? I never thought of that one. I bought the muffin and he said to me, "Hope you enjoy the sugar rush!" I didn't, but I enjoyed the commentary.
With the exception of the Armani-suited real estate guy and the other broker who stood me up and didn't return my calls, every encounter I've had with strangers in this past week has been simply delightful.
I spoke to a Jehovah's witness for 45 minutes when i was in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn. I was lost, and he looked like he'd be friendly, at least, though I figured I'd get an earful of proselytizing. Instead, when i told him I was a Buddhist, he asked me if yoga was part of Buddhism, saying "I took a yoga class and I didn't think it was very spiritual." I explained that yoga was many things; exercise, stretching, and sometimes a spiritual practice, adding that it wasn't part of the Buddhist tradition. He was puzzled, for he had noted they did meditation once a week - "Isn't that what Buddhists do?"
So, we wound up deep in conversation. He wanted to know how he could get closer to god. I told him that meditation was indeed a way to do it. He asked me if I read the Bible, and I said I had. But, he was concerned for me, as I seemed "very nice", that I hadn't read Revelations. Did I know about the Rapture and wasn't I scared of burning for all eternity?
Now, you might be thinking this conversation sounds like hell, but it was fun. He was an open man, who had fallen in love with Jesus, and though he feared for others' salvation, he did not seem scared. He was curious about other avenues of religious or spiritual experience. He expressed sadness for those in the neighborhood who lived miserable lives. We talked so long, and he never gave me a pamphlet. He shook my hand with warmth, and unlike the guy in Armani, he looked he in the eye and smiled.
And so did I. Every day this past week, I smiled and talked with strangers. I'm glad I left he ear buds out of my ears. Sure, I could've been listening to "stuff I like", but I can do that when I'm alone. There's all these people out there, and they are dying to tell their stories, talk to people with open ears, respond to smiles, and smile themselves.
Sure, there's also people who'd like to steal my iPhone, too.
The way I see it, I have a choice about which world I'd rather focus on. I can see the world as filled with miraculous strangers who I can connect with in surprising ways, or I can see the world as filled with strangers who are potential enemies. I'm choosing the former. I may be living in the 21st century, and the media is screaming at me that there's danger lurking at every turn, but I see something very different. Am I living in la-la-land? Perhaps. I don't care. I like it here.
Let me amend that. I love this la-la-land. I wish everyone who's too plugged in to see it would unplug. And yes, that's a pretty odd thing to say while I'm blogging on a bus, but there's no one sitting next to me right now.
Photo note: Korean hot pot, the dish the young man told me he was going to have as soon as he got home. Lucky guy.
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