Speak to Strangers

A few months back I hopped into a cab to go the airport. The driver was cordial and asked if I could help him navigate down the dark and windy roads that would lead us back to the freeway.

I spent many years hailing cabs back in New York. I discovered it's like any other dance between two human spirits – two strangers feeling each other out, gauging if one cares much to talk or sit in solitude. The morning rides in particular leave a fog, a sort of haze making it difficult to decipher reality from a dream. 

In the end, we did talk. We spoke about family, work, and the merciless pace of time. We got along well and I wondered if in another life we might have been good friends. He was a gentle soul who seemed to have a delicate relationship with the world; two things I could relate to.

The ride was quick and uneventful, which is to say it was fine. When we got to the arrival curb I paid him and wished him well. He drove off into the still dark morning as I wheeled my bag through the automatic doors to a brightly lit kiosk. I'll likely never see that man again, but somehow felt better of than I was before. Being human is about connecting regardless of time and space.  

Speak to strangers.