Riding a plane is risky, but interesting business. You are trusting your life with two strangers that will fly you higher than the clouds in a tin can with wings along with another hundred or so strangers. So far, I haven’t died yet, so I guess that I’ve trusted my life with the right people. To be fair however, the way they bribe you to fly with them is very tempting. Airlines promise that they’ll bring you to your desired location faster than anyone else, usually accompanied with free movies, food, and bathrooms onboard. No wonder the airline business is so profitable.

On many of these rides, I have met or interacted with interesting people. Anonymous people that lent a hand, temporary friends that exist only on the flight, businessmen more concerned with their graphs than their lunch, and random strangers that seem so familiar.

Here is a story of that last category:

I had moved to New York from California about four years ago, and left a lot of old pals hanging there. I am only in touch nowadays with one of those old friends, with the rest most likely forgetting about me, and moving on with their lives. 

“Hm? Who?” They’d most likely say if asked about me, “That name sounds familiar… Maybe I met him at a park or something. I dunno.”

Sometime late last year or early this year, I think I met one of these forgotten friends. It was winter break, and we were boarding a plane ride to Utah to go skiing when I thought I saw a familiar face. I thought I recognized a boy’s unruly, curly brown hair, his almost sheepish gaze, his freckled face, and his chameleon green eyes that had a splotch of brown mixed in. I didn’t know for sure that it was him, because the last time I met him was in third grade, and people — especially kids — can change a lot in three years.

 I sat behind him, and spent the entire ride wondering if I should talk to him. If he was really one of my old pals, then I would regain an old friend, but will I be able to retain him as a friend? Or maybe it wasn’t him, but just one of the million other people in the world that look somewhat like him, and I would embarrass myself in front of some random guy. What would you do?

I spent most of the flight wondering what I should do, until I felt his gaze rest on me.

What is he thinking? I pondered, my heart racing, unsure of what to do next, Does he recognize me too?

I struggled with my thoughts, and decided that I needed a break. I was overthinking things, and decided to watch a movie to calm my nerves.

About halfway through the movie, I needed to use the bathroom, so I made my way to the aisle, and towards the restrooms. There was a queue consisting of two or three people waiting to use it as there always is, so I got in line dutifully and started to think about the mystery man behind me again. I didn’t get too far with my thoughts, as my tissue packet dropped out of my jacket pocket… and fell at the feet of the boy who sat behind me, who was, coincidentally, also in line for the restroom. Serendipity is a funny thing.

“Hi, um, I think this is yours.” He said, awkwardly.

I said nothing, but just stood there, which made the situation obviously more uncomfortable for the boy. A million thoughts flooded my head, and I could not decide what to do. 

I’m overthinking things, I told myself, trying to calm my nerves. I still had no idea what to do. I considered running out of the line, and back into the safety of my window seat, but then realized that, because he sat right behind me, that would not be an escape. 

After too many precious seconds wasted standing uncomfortably in line, my brain finally regained control of my thoughts and made a decision: Oh, what the heck, he’s just a kid, like me. How bad will it be just to talk to him?

“Um… Hi?” I said awkwardly, “Uh, yeah, those are my tissues... Do I know you?”

You only live once, right?