The Good Strangers

I fly a lot. Normally, two work trips a month. This means I will encounter approximately 2 ticket agents, 2 TSA agents, 4 gate attendants and 8 flight attendants per trip. That’s a total of 32 people a month trained in the guidelines and customer service of the air travel world. We are all human and have bla, bad, and booming days so I’ve seen it all. And on occasion, there is that one gem that shines above the rest. Her name was Felicia and she was our Delta flight attendant on my leg from Roanoke, VA to Atlanta, GA on Saturday June 24, 2017.

I had to travel back home on a Saturday because I couldn’t find a flight home Friday evening after two days of training a team in Stanton, VA. And leave it to Felicia to make it a pleasurable one. She greeted each of us with a genuinely warm smile and ‘welcome aboard”.  Next up was the funny commentary she provided during the ‘take off speech’ which reminded me of the Southwest Airlines videos I’d seen on occasion. She then commented on a passengers ‘pretty eyes’ which made their day no doubt. She wore a warm smile when talking to each person she served. I watched  her and I felt her loving and positive energy. It radiated from every ounce of her being. I wondered “what if we all acted like Felicia? Wouldn’t the world be a better place?”

When it came my turn to be served, she gave me an abundance of snacks. As in TWO beloved biscoff cookies, although I told her my waist line only needed one, along with a bag of almonds. She literally walked back to me from two seats away to give me the extra cookie! Did she know I was experiencing the PMS sweet tooth? Regardless, my needs were met plentifully. And if you haven’t tried these brown sugar cinnamon cookies, you should. I’ve been known to buy a jar of the biscoff butter (when you can find it) and spread it over almost anything!

Felica continued her duties with joy, the kind of joy you know isn’t fake. She loved her job and it showed. We felt it. She was the perfect example of creating an excellent flying experience reminiscent of the early days. You know, when people dressed up for their flight and the service was impeccable. I experienced it a few times with my grandmother in the 80’s when traveling throughout the country. Felica brought back those ‘feels’. She took me back to childhood of experiencing the friendly skies with ‘MeeMaa’. Thank you Felica. My grandmother would have loved you as well.

Felicia’s parting words to all of us sealed my opinion I was having of her energy that day. She thanked us for traveling Delta and said ” Be kind to yourself and be kind to others”. And deep down, I know she lives those words daily. I wrote her a thank you note for my experience on the back of a ‘good strangers’ card and gave it to her as I departed the plane. May all who have the privilege to fly with Felicia appreciate what she gives us- its rare these days. And may we all ‘be kind to ourselves and to others.’

One Saturday afternoon shortly after moving to my new city, I decided to go for a run hoping to find the new ‘Arts District’ located in an old three story warehouse. It was a sunny fall day and I wanted to take in a few things along the way.  My first stop was the local historic hardware store on the square which was actually a gift shop. After browsing for a bit,  I stopped at the checkout counter and asked the gentleman which route he suggested I take. I mentioned that I was on a run and asked if the Arts District was close enough to add to my route. He said sure and suggested I take the route under the freeway.

Off I go, cell phone in hand, with the GPS app telling me I had 1.5 miles to go. Easy enough….or so I thought. After submerging from the underpass, life began to look a little different. To my right I noticed a sketchy strip mall which consisted of fencing with barbed wire along the top. Hummmm …. Am I in the right place? A little further down is a housing complex that just didn’t feel quite right. As I get closer, I see two skantly clad women lingering on the corner and next to them are two men clearly exchanging more than just pleasantries. Yup, out comes a baggy and quick cash. At this point, I’m clearly thinking “I am lost”! Because no one would have suggested it safe for a single female to run to her desired destination through the projects! 

Ok. Do I turn around and run back? I look behind me and several people who live in that area are walking my direction. As I cuss myself for getting into this situation, I am reminded of being 12 and getting my mouth washed out with a bar of Irish Spring. I make a quick dash into the H&R Block located in the strip mall. Thankfully, despite it being October, they were open. “Hello Miss, may we help you” the lady asks. “Yes, I am looking for the local Arts District that is supposedly close by”. She proceeds to say “We don’t have anything like that around here”. I retort, “Are you sure? My GPS says it’s off this street and the man at the hardware store sent me this way”. “It’s several stories high and in an old shoe factory”. She walks over to her co-worker and then comes back and tells me there is an old warehouse to the south of us a few blocks away. “That’s it!”, I gratefully reply.

Now at the time, I was training for a half marathon and reasoned this was THE moment to turn my pace into a sprint. I’m sure it looked like I was in a 100 meter dash but I could care less. All I wanted was to get to my destination safely.

While sprinting, I noticed the corner gas station was full of interesting characters lingering outside. A few of which threw out unwanted advances and noises. In my head I’m saying “Please let me come out of this unscathed”, all while cussing the guy at the hardware store who sent me this way ON FOOT! Finally, there’s the warehouse! Yes! Lots of cars! So in I go and am quite relieved. Except how was I going to get home? I sure wasn’t going to run back.  I didn’t really have any friends in my new town, I only had my phone and no cash. I said a quick prayer and let the chips fall where they may. For some reason I started my tour on the 2nd floor, the most funky floor of all. After about 30 minutes I reach the end booth called Cre8tive Sistas’. These lovely sistas’ repurpose old jewelry, much of which was ‘steam punk’. They told me all about each of their specialities, stories about some of their pieces and how one (Jana) was a brave cancer warrior. It was here I got to know Jana and her sister Kathy (Valerie was out of state). They were both so sweet and funny not to mention creative! They asked what brought me here and I proceeded to tell them I was new to town, how I ran there and what happened along the way. Wide-eyed they both said “You ran here”!? “Uh, yeah and I’m nervous about running back”, I replied.

And here is where Jana became my good stranger. She insisted on taking me home when they closed, which was in another two hours. She didn’t know me from Adam yet she wanted to make sure that the new stranger in her town got home safely. So not only did I get to see all of the amazing galleries and displays that day but, at 5pm, Jana drove me home just as she promised.

A few weeks later I went to visit Jana and Kathy, as I still do from time to time. I purchased a ‘remembory’ (remember + memory) from them. A beautiful steam punk pendant that was made from the inside of an old watch. They explained that the little red gems inside are actually tiny garnets which help make a watch function. It was also my first purchase in my new town, which is often a conversation piece. And don’t you know, along with discussing my necklace goes the story of being rescued by Jana…. another of my good strangers. Thanks to her for being ‘a gem’.

Stay tuned next month to hear about my next good stranger, Appalachian Pete, while I was visiting Boone, NC!

 

Meet my first three good strangers (Justin, Chase and David). Don’t let this photo scare you. Good strangers come in all kinds of packages- including those of massive facial hair, along with crazed and psychotic expressions.

After moving to Alabama, I ventured out one evening for dinner.  By ‘venture’ I mean downstairs, out the side door of my building, taking four steps to the right and into a bar/restaurant.  If as a female, you’ve ever walked into an ‘establishment’ alone you may tend to scan the room to figure out where you want to sit. At a table or at the bar. I usually feel guilty taking up a table that two or more people need so off to the bar I went. Plus,  you can ‘kind of’ blend in if there are several people already sitting there.  If you’re the ONLY one there, hold your own and who cares if people at tables incorrectly assume you’re lonely.  Just enjoy the experience!  I tend to prefer the end bar stool.  It’s a prime seat if you like to people watch and are slightly claustrophobic.

I found my spot at the bar and ‘Beer Jesus (Chase)’, as locals fondly refer to him, quickly and attentively asked me “whatcha’ havin’ pretty lady”. Quick service and a compliment- a good start. Now here is where some anxiety sets in, not because of seeing my first long bearded ponytail wearing bartender but because I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I heard my new town had a great craft beer scene; however, I didn’t have much experience with craft at the time. You see,  I grew up in a small DRY COUNTY with a population of 8,143 at that time so there was zero exposure to craft. Plus, in my 20’s and early 30’s, my life was less about exploring and more about surviving.  Therefore, I thought ‘good’ beer consisted of Guinness, Sam Adams, Amber Bock or my pre-craft favorite,  Negra Modelo (don’t knock it, its great after you mow your yard).  So instead of asking for something ‘uncool’,  I said ‘ let me think about it’. I don’t know if he saw the anxiety in my eyes or if it was just years of experience dealing with my kind (probably both) that caused him to say “take your time”. He graciously smiled and gave me the craft beer list to scan rather than be impatient and just stand there. So off he went to wait on his other customers while I contemplated.

Now after about two minutes David (who by the way is a disc golf superstar with a cute dachshund), says “just move into town”? When you are in the biggest small town ever, the locals tend to know when there is a new face. I told him yes, what brought me to the area and that I worked in the field of child abuse. He made me feel comfortable and immediately more relaxed. He was the entertainer of the threesome. Would he be the one I asked about which craft beer to order? I’m scanning the menu.  IPA, I had no idea what that was or tasted like! Can I sample it first? Is that wrong to ask? A sour? Who would want sour beer? Maybe I should just order bourbon, but wait, the list consists of SO many fancy bourbons. Ones I’ve never had! How about a gin and tonic with extra lime? I knew I liked that. I wasn’t in the mood for red wine. But wait, I came here to try local craft beer and that’s what I was going to do.

Now at this point David had moved on to other customers while I was ‘deciding’. Every profession has unspoken rules. The ones you don’t know or understand unless you work in that industry. I sure didn’t want to be ‘one of those’ annoying customers. You know, the kind that ask their bartender to make a barely known cocktail consisting of 10 ingredients with some crazy name like “The Red Fingernail” or “A Lonely Island Lost In the Middle of a Foggy Sea”. I mean this could be my new hang out if I didn’t get put on ‘the list’. At least the list I imagined.

Next up to help the new girl in the bar was Justin (appropriately his last name is Craft and has great teeth). He casually made his way over to check on me. Now at this point I wondered if there was some kind of code word or secret body language that the three of them used to relay to one another my obvious (but hoping not obvious) plight. Justin, or better known as Juggy, decided it was time for ‘the quiz’. The quiz that I have come to watch all of them so skillfully do with other customers. The one where you ask several preference questions without making the new craft explorer feel stupid. It takes skill, especially if they are slammed, because I’ve since then seen it done in frustrated tones by bartenders in my travels, and I could immediately feel the embarrassment of the poor souls next to me. And when it happens, I finish my drink and leave. Done.

While Justin is giving me some samples (yes you can get them but don’t abuse the courtesy), both David and Chase discreetly make their way back over so see what the new girl chose. I’m sure there is some kind of happy dance they did afterward to celebrate. What did I chose? An IPA and a Peanut Butter Porter. I can’t recall what breweries made them but the IPA had lovely citrus undertones and wasn’t too hoppy. The porter….ah the porter. It was a magical blend that sparked childhood memories of peanut butter sandwiches and hints of chocolate. With the help of these funny, accommodating and kind fellas, my eyes were forever opened to the world of craft. I’m grateful to them for that. But not for the extra pounds I’ve gained.

They didn’t always work the same night, but when they did, the energy there was perfect. Others felt it too and commented on why they would frequent the hang out. When my friends would visit from out of state, who do you think I took them to meet? One of my friends loved her time there so much, she wrote a thank you note to them and the manager!

You see, I enjoyed my experience. Why? Because of their personalities,  how they treated me and others . I also watched how they treated one another. They had fun back there behind that bar AND they knew their beverages well.  I endearingly named them ‘The Three Amigos”. I continued to stop in for dinner and drinks as the months passed. There’s something to be said when you can message any of them ahead of time and they will save you a seat at the bar because you’re dealing with a bit of social anxiety that day.  Each time, the experience was memorable- and on occasion it consisting of Chase protecting me from some drunk guy that was a little too much in my space or the ‘business man’ with ulterior motives wanting me to review a new venture. Clearly, these ‘good strangers’ were also protective when needed. I even witnessed them making sure people got home safely when some over indulged, not realizing the higher alcohol volume in some craft- hence the 10oz pour. See how much I learned?

All good things must come to an end. Or at least a new beginning. Each of them moved on to different places- a craft tap room, a brewery and a quaint bar. They are all doing well and they continue to take care of their customers with humor, patience, generosity and kindness. How do I know? Because I still visit these good strangers from time to time and when asked by others where to go, I give them the three locations. The feedback is always positive.

I think we can all learn something from ‘good strangers’- something beyond noticing just their kindness and good deeds.

Here are a few take-a-ways from my experience with them:

1. Tip ‘good’ bartenders and servers VERY well- not only for the experience and service but also because some of them have children to support.

2. Be patient. They have to remember all of our orders and preferences without a note pad, not to mention few bathroom breaks and personal trials all while dealing with occasional difficult and obnoxious customers.

3. They hear everything you say at the bar, even when you think they don’t.

4. If you become a regular, take them goodies (note the homemade cookie in photo).

5. And lastly,  if you’re new to craft beer,  and don’t know what to get- order the flight and ask them to select their favorites. They know best.

I look forward to sharing a shorter story next month.  This one involves a kind sista’ who rescued me when I found myself lost, on foot, in a sketchy part of my new town.

A little over two years ago I moved to Alabama for a new job. Although excited about my move, a new city and career, I left behind my family and close friends. I’ve moved several times before but this was the first time I didn’t know a soul (other than a few of my colleagues I would be working with). It was in this new city I met my first three ‘good strangers’. I’ll write about them later.

As the months went by and I traveled often for my job, I began to find myself meeting more and more ‘good strangers’. You know, the ones who do kind things for you or others. The ones who share interesting stories about their lives. The ones who just exude heart, kindness, happiness or generosity. The ones who teach, inspire or help you to see the good in the world.

As each one would do something kind for me, share what they had done for someone else or I observed their good deeds, I began rolodexing them in my mind. Sometimes I would share these stories with others yet I began to wonder if over time the memories would fade. I wanted to keep them alive. But how?

Then one fall evening when I was in Boone, NC, I met another good stranger. It was then on the way home from that work trip that I decided to start a blog at the beginning of 2017 to capture the memories ( and sometimes a picture) of these kind souls that cross my path.

Today is January 1st 2017 and this is my first post in the birth of that blog. My challenge will be grammar and spelling! Plus, I tend to write like I think. Bare with me. Stay tuned for the story of my first ‘good strangers’ upon arriving to Alabama. They were a package deal, at least initially.