Laurent

Today was an "Fmylife" kinda day, smack dab in the middle of an "fmylife" kinda week, where nothing seemed to go as planned. Granted, my spirits were up and overall I was pretty content, but it was comical, and slightly annoying, how luck just wasn't on my side.

You see, I was on a business trip with my boss; we began in Richmond, VA, headed to Baltimore, then hit Spring City, PA, Princeton, NJ, and finally ended up back to New York. It started with me forgetting to pack extra media kits; then I left the power cord to my laptop at our client's office in Richmond. Today, driving from Spring City, PA, to Princeton, NJ, I went the wrong way on I-76 and wound up somewhere out near Lancaster (damn Google maps! Shoulda went with that GPS for $15 extra). I was late for my PM meeting and I wound up getting a bit off track on the drive back to Manhattan.

Nevertheless, I did have good meetings (nobody was peeved at my tardiness) and I enjoyed Sirius XM's plethora of stations during the long drive. I always try and be thankful for what I've got - employment, health, happiness, cognitive ability, etc. -so today wasn't terrible. After returning the rental car, I stepped out into the crisp night air and walked west on 43rd street toward Grand Central. Again, generally speaking I was fine - there was a part of me that was, however, a bit weary, tired from the day, and cranky - like if I saw an acquaintance/friend I might want to pretend I didn't see him/her so as to avoid all the "catch me up" formalities.

Sure enough, I was approached by someone, as I always seem to be. Maybe it's that "I live here but I'm not FROM here" vibe I've been told I give off; maybe it's the Midwest approachability factor. People seem to approach and ask me for directions all the time. This gentleman was a young adult with curly brown hair and glasses. He said, "can you tell me where is the nearest subway" and I immediately recognized his accent. I asked him which line, and it turned out we were both headed to the same station, so I invited him to walk with me. I asked, "Vous etes de Paris?" (Are you from Paris?") and he said, "Oui!" I proceeded to explain to him, as I do every french tourist, that I was in France in 1998 and 2001, both with scool, and how I think it's a beautiful country. He was "presque vent et un" (almost 21 years old) so I made a joke about our drinking age. I told him the first time I was ever really "drunk," ironically enough, was age 16 in Paris. Although it was legal, I felt like a badass.

We spoke in French a bit more; he told me he was staying in a hostel near the theater district, and asked me why everything was "tres cher" in New York (very expensive). I laughed and said, "Isn't Paris also pretty pricey, too?" He said not as much as NYC. Before we parted ways, I shook his hand and asked his name. Laurent, he said, and he spelled it out. He was headed downtown as I was walking toward the uptown platform; he thanked me and we parted.

I'll probably never see Laurent again. He'll head back to France and continue his life; I'll continue mine on this side of the pond. Yet for that five, maybe ten minute period, we crossed paths, and the universe decided we should be "friends." Maybe that's all you get with some people; that brief dent in time to connect--I helped him out, we share a laugh or two, I brushed up on my french, etc., etc.--nevertheless I view the encounter overall as a reminder that even in the midst of a stressful/tiring day, it's all still jam and sometimes the world has funny ways of illustrating that fact.

In my case today, it was my brief but pleasant encounter with Laurent that reminded me just how great life is - that even if for a brief window of time, we can peer into the life of another, brighten their day, connect with them on some intangible level, and subsequently learn something. Although brief it was so refreshing and special; I thought about asking him if he was on Facebook, but decided against it. Again, some experiences and meetings should be left as is because they are almost more sacred that way.