Is everyone looking at me? I bet they can tell I’m not from here. Just put your head down and act like you belong.
Nothing humbles you quite like running through an airport. At the end of a week-long solo trip in England, I found myself breaking into a dead sprint in the middle of Heathrow. Like I said, humbling.
Travelling alone had been a dream of mine for a while. A chance to push myself, to practice solitude, and to gain confidence in my independence. The only problem is, I’m not a planner. Logistics? Not my gift. Unfortunately, the thing about taking a trip by yourself, is that you’re the only one that can make those decisions. It’s a double edged sword. On the one hand, you don’t have to manage anyone else’s expectations. You get to do what you want, when you want, without worrying about if someone else is having a good time. On the other hand, there’s no one to bounce ideas off of. No one to say, “Let’s get a nightcap!” or, “That museum actually closes in thirty minutes.”
My goal was to fly under the radar. I didn’t want to look like a tourist–which is a lot easier when you’re alone. That fear of being perceived, being called out for my blatant Americanism, kept my disposition closed off. Whatever social skills I have were wasted that week. Don’t get me wrong, the trip was incredible. I drove across the countryside (on the opposite side of the road). I explored London, Bath, and Oxford. I ate amazing food (table for one, please!) and I did what I wanted to, when I wanted to. I can’t wait to do it again.
But, I wonder what would have been different if I had looked up from my Kindle. If I had smiled at strangers, sat for longer at the restaurant bar, worn my tourist label as a badge of honor, how would my trip have been even more special? Taking back strangers’ stories as a souvenir instead of a tiny cheese grater (I actually passed on the cheese grater, my biggest regret of the trip.) There’s a place for caution and safety, but there’s also a value in abandoning the safety of stoicism.
At the end of my trip, running late to my flight home, I was backed into a corner, with no choice but to lift my head and make a friend. Ok, well maybe not a friend. A soul tie? Closer. A brother? Absolutely.
When travelling in Europe, you are allowed one clear, ziploc bag of toiletries in your carry on. A fact that happened to escape my memory. Adding to the stress of my lateness, this realization came to me mid security line. And when I say realization, I am referring to the glaring signs at every turn and security workers yelling this fact at me. Cut to my suitcase open on the floor of the airport as I shoved toothpaste and face wash into a tiny plastic bag. Actually, two plastic bags, which is exactly one more that I was allowed to take with me on the flight.
Quickly, I separated the most important items from the lesser (cheaper) items. Jo Malone Poppy & Barley in one bag, Trader Joe’s bar of soap in the other. I inch forward in the security line with no idea how to get both sets of liquids through the scanners. Down to the wire, my eyes scan the lines around me. I’ve found him, my mark. To be fair, the only thing I’m really searching for is someone without a ziploc of their own. Setting the fundamentals of air travel safety aside, I make my approach. The benefit of having a babyface–plus my inherent privilege–is that when I asked a stranger to carry one half of my toiletries through security, he smiled, laughed, and said yes. Rather than report me to security, which would have been a rational response. Is this a felony? Probably.
On the other side of security–where they pat me down, which might refute my previous baby-face claim–I waited patiently for my best friend to emerge from his own line. I waited. And I waited, now convinced my hero’s ratted me out to the woman searching his luggage. Then, he’s there. I’m back with two bags in hand and expressing humiliating gratitude to a stranger who did me a solid. This delay compounded with my original lateless leads me to that full sprint.
At that moment, I was preoccupied with a) making my flight and b) reeling in shock over my luck. Now, I look at that moment as a highlight of my trip.
I was prepared to throw away one of those bags, to let it fall into the trash. By taking that risk, searching for kindness and trust in a stranger, I built a connection. A connection that probably led to nothing more than a funny story for him to go home and tell his friends, but still.
It’s easy to look for judgement in others, which is a judgement in itself. Instead, when I looked for sincerity, I didn’t find fakes. I found the real deal. I found a stranger in an airport willing to carry a bag full of shampoo and conditioner for a random woman with an earnest request.
My belief that the people I encountered on my trip didn’t want to engage, kept me from gleaning the full potential from solo-traveling. In a world where I long for people to assume the best of me and my intentions, I assume the worst of theirs. The problem is that people will let me down. People will respond with coldness or annoyance or disinterest. But, maybe you have to kiss a few frogs to make a worthwhile connection. The more comfortable I get with being rejected and getting over it, the more kind and generous I become.
As you read this, you might be thinking, “Bridget, it’s a harsh world. People do have bad intentions and they do bad things.” Sure they do. As a woman, strange men have made me uncomfortable more times than I can count. But not everyone in the world is a strange man. I’m not telling you to put your life in their hands, but to live a bit more open to the people around you. For your own sake, look for the good stuff instead of the bad. I have a sneaking suspicion that what you look for is what you find.
Uncross your arms. Set your phone down. Smile at the barista and ask them about their day. Remember someone’s name and don’t feel embarrassed if they don’t remember yours. Cynicism might protect you from the unsavory parts of life, but it also dulls the beauty and the delight to be found in living.
Be smart, be careful, but look for the good in other people–it might be the difference between one bag of toiletries or two.
