July 2, 2016
Something about trains and traveling to a new place puts me into an open state. Here’s my story of today.
I’m traveling from London to Amsterdam by train, via Brussels. First, the process of departing London St Pancras on an international train has changed considerably since the last time I did it when I was 18. Now it’s more like going through an “airport-light” with lines, security xrays, and passport control. (although departing Brussels for Amsterdam required no such control – I suppose that’s got something to do with the EU). It was only €6 more to go 1st class, so I had an assigned seat, a single, with a table, facing another single. The carriage had a few other people in it, but lots of empty seats. Just before we pulled out of the station, a man sat down in the seat across from me. We both pulled out our MacBooks to work.
About fifteen minutes into the trip, a light meal service began (how civilized) of a croissant, tea, orange juice, etc., and the woman serving the meal suggested that this man and I didn’t need to sit facing each other, since there were lots of empty seats, and with our computers out, there wasn’t room for the trays. In his totally London way, he rather charmingly said I was all right, I didn’t smell, in fact I smelled quite nice, and we didn’t need to move. The rail lady said “but there’s no room.” I said I would take my meal tray to one of the empty seats.
After eating, I returned to my seat (with a cheeky “I’m back”) and worked on my computer for a while, interspersed with sessions of dreamily staring out the window. I thought perhaps this man across from me was an actor. He looked like and had the carriage of an actor. Later I moved to another seat across the aisle when the couple who was there got off the train, took a little nap and stretched out my legs. When the train arrived in Brussels, my seat mate and I had a little conversation which led to us finding out we were both bound for Amsterdam, and very quickly to the discovery that we both worked in entertainment fields. He was on a gig directing a commercial, I think.
It’s the speed at which one can find out things about strangers which amazes me. In the amount of time it took for the train to pull into the station, for us to disembark and to get off the platform, he knew I was a theatre professor, director, and a medievalist, and I knew he was teaching/coaching actors and moving from directing commercials and video into feature films, after having a career in contemporary dance. How does that happen? How is it that we can be acquainted with people for years and know less about them (and disclose less about ourselves) than we can share with someone we meet while traveling? What is it about the mindset we get in when we travel?
This new friendship was useful to me in that I didn’t know where I was going or what train I was supposed to get on for my change in Brussels, which is a huge station. My friend makes the trip a lot, and escorted me to where he thought I should go, all the while madly discussing theatre, teaching, young actors, etc. There was some confusion about my ticket, and he took me to the information center and got me sorted out, then to the platform I needed. While we were waiting at the info center, I mentioned that I had just led a study abroad trip and seen a lot of shows in London. That led to a conversation about a particular actor whom I brought up as a stand-out and whom, it turns out, had repeatedly come up for him as a possible casting choice for an upcoming project. What are the odds that a random conversation would take this direction? What put us in seats directly across from each other when there were tons of empty seats in the carriage? How small can this freaking business be?
We wrapped up the whirlwind conversation by introducing ourselves by name. Isn’t that a funny thing? Names came last. Perhaps we’ll meet for lunch in London; perhaps he’ll send me an email with recommendations of interesting, non-obvious things to see and do in Amsterdam. He took my email and asked if I would give him my UK phone number, fearing that I might think he was stalking me. I said “there aren’t many things that scare me” as I typed my number and email into his phone. And that’s the truth. There aren’t many things that scare me, and I’m especially brave when I’m traveling. Perhaps that’s why I love it so much. Some of my favorite memories in life are of the chance encounters I’ve had when my split-second decision to trust another human being has brought me face to face with the beauty of how kind and connected people can be.
I wonder whatever happened to the young man who, twenty-five years ago, cooked me dinner in his squat in Rochester, Kent, and then took me out to meet his friends in a pub. I met him while standing in front of a closed visitor’s information kiosk.
Travel. Be open. Smile. Stare dreamily out the train windows. Receive all that life gives you.
