Low on the Go!

travelog part 1.

Today, when I arrived at the Toronto airport, I flopped down in a seat facing the huge windows. Tired from the 8 hour flight and passage through customs, I pulled out some math-riddles that I found in one of those on-board magazines and started doing them mindlessly.
Behind me, I heard a girl on her cell phone talking to her mum. Talking about how her boyfriend (I'm assuming?) had hit her and pushed her in front of "them" (her friends, I suppose?). She was crying and yelling at her mum, and from the conversation, I gleaned that "he" had thrown her out on the street and tossed her wallet somewhere. She had no money.

Something inside me wanted to hand her a $20, just like that man did at Starbucks to me, what seems like ages ago. I wanted to ask her if she needed anything, if she was okay. But I didn't.

A mother with a young child was standing beside me, so I offered her my seat.

I end up sitting next to the girl on the cell phone, who had by then finished her conversation.

I see the girl, who must be in her late 20s, with her styled and curled blonde hair, and her big sunglasses, her perfectly pedicured feet, and though I know approaching her would be the right thing to do, the thing "a missionary should do", the thing Jesus would have done, I am afraid that my feeble attempt at comfort will be rejected. So i sit in my chair, pretending to look elsewhere--anywhere but AT her. But I steal glimpses. Though her glasses mask her eyes, I see her sorrow, and my heart pounds. A voice (the HS perhaps?) says "Talk to her."

But I don't.

I just sit, like everyone around us.

The announcement goes off on the PA system. "Flight AC421 now boarding."

The girl gets up and walks, her shiny stilettos clicking against the floor, her hips swaying back and forth in her perfectly fitted skinny jeans.

She disappears into the throng of people waiting in the boarding queue.

i am left to gather my stuff, and I can't help feeling disappointed with myself.

As i settle into my plane seat, i pull out my bible, well worn from 3 years of use and most recently, a 2 month stint in North Africa, Paris and London.

i know i am a hypocrite.

though i am disappointed in myself, i can't shake the feeling that had i a chance to rewind, i would still do the exact same thing.