Richard and
I made the appropriate amount of conversation for 4:15 a.m. and his Toyota
Prius puttered along the Colorado freeway with efficiency. The security line
was buzzing as usual at Denver International Airport, and once I was through
it, off the train, and seated at my gate, I found myself purposelessly jumping
in and out of apps on my phone. When I’d grown tired of this I looked up and
noticed a woman across the aisle looking at me. I looked back down in what was
likely a normal bit of social awkwardness, but was quick to return another
glance when she spoke my name.
“Lesley
Speer,” she said. I jolted out of my chair, likely energized by the strange
feeling I’d had in Richard’s Prius that I would run in to someone I know, which
happens more often than not when flying to Denver from Kansas City, or in this
case, the opposite.
I sat with
her for the 10 minutes or so until it was my turn to get in to the Southwest
Airlines’ numerical-order line, and -- the flight being at capacity -- that was
the end of our exchange. I’d already downloaded a podcast that was nearly the
exact duration of the flight, and as we prepared to taxi, I snorted at the
preview for the upcoming Between Two
Ferns. I repeated my out-loud chuckles as I consumed the podcast, and
probably made the couple sitting next to me think I was a little bizarre.
