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The Pessimist
I rest, tired and jet lagged settled on one of the white voguish seats of the airport terminal. The realization that I should be stretching my legs while I have the chance has dawned on me several times, but I am succumbed to my laziness.
Bored, my eyes begin glancing around, as though looking for nothing in particular, but in the back of my mind the thought of striking a conversation lingers.
“He’s boring, she’s boring,” I whisper under my breath as I browse the terminal for an individual with which a conversation could be insightful, or at the very least interesting. Father taught me not to judge on appearance, but following a second scan my mind convinces itself, I’m better off confined to my own thoughts. Disappointed, I look down at my wrist to see how much time has passed.
“Swear time passes slower in airports than the rest of the world.” I complain out loud, but to myself. My eyes shift upwards to notice the young man sitting across from me shake his head to my remark. Curiously I had failed to notice him on my ocular search for a partner in conversation.
His appearance captivates me, sweat glistens the thick brows housed by his anxiety plagued face. He is tapping his feet uneasily and his thumbs are being twiddled.
I ponder what predicament could be causing this nervous wreck to resemble so much a draftee being sent straight to Nam. Simultaneously I answer my own question.
“Nervous about the flight?” I ask
“I don’t think I can go through with this,” the boy replies.
“Wow my friend you really have a fear of flying,” I chuckle.
“It’s not about the flying.” The boy answers, as our eyes meet and he quickly looks away.
“Oh?”
“I’m going on a six month trip to France, Italy, Greece and then a couple countries in Asia,”
“and your nervous!?” I cut in, “sounds like the adventure of a lifetime.”
“I still live at home and this is the first time i’ll be leaving for more than a week,” the boy mumbles.
“So now you get to live by your own rules, your free, no more curfew.” I respond
“What if I get into trouble or get lost?”
“Be careful, buy a map, ask for directions from someone who looks helpful.” I answer
“What if they don’t speak english?” the boy questions
“Then buy a translation book or find someone who does.” I chuckle
“What If I loose my luggage? the boy chirps
“Buy new clothes,” I chuckle again.
“What if I run out of money or it all gets stolen and what if I loose my passport? What if I get into trouble with the law? What if...” the pessimist goes on and on as I giggle away. Finally he finishes,
“I don’t think I’m going to go through with this, theres too man risks, theres so many things that could go wrong.” My chuckles halt and my voice becomes earnest.
“Look son, if your too scared to go through with your trip, fine, but i want you to know that your trip will probably be one on the single greatest adventures of your lifetime. It will be life altering, and any problems encountered will just help you find out what you’re made of and lead to your discovery of who you really are. Think of all the amazing times you’ll have, not the things that could go wrong. Think of the elegant foods to be tasted the beautiful places to see and not the mention the beautiful foreign girls...”
“FLIGHT EIGHT FIFTEEN TO TORONTO, NOW BOARDING”
“That’s me kid, I have to go, just remember, no regrets.” I stand up and take a few strides away.
“Wait, wait,” the pessimist jeers. I turn around and he smiles at me.
“Thanks,” he says.
“Don’t mention it,” I smile back.
let me know any feed back...
or tell me if i should just restart