After TSA legally robbed me of my silk infusion hair oil (I guess the agent had a case of winter frizz), and I got on the plane, I found myself sitting across the aisle from the actress who read the lead in my play. We kept staring at each other casually until it began to feel like a Seinfeld episode. Neither one of us wanted to be the weirdo who asks, “Do I know you?” and then when the answer is “No” has to feel the embarrassment of having revealed the emotional tangents of her mind. The interaction inevitably leads the to some form of the thought “Are you that desperate for human connection?” (Uh…yes).
Thank God the flight attendant came by and we were forced to look each other in the eye. She said she had initially noticed my New Yorker magazine and was jealous that I was reading something for my brain instead of a beauty magazine hell bent on terrorizing the reader into spending half her savings on treatments.
Coincidentally (fortuitously, ironically, mysteriously…however you choose to file away such occurrences), I was working on the play that she read.
I took the whole event as a sign. For what…I don’t know.
Just for today, I believe in a higher power.