Luckily I had my Bible in my carry-on and was able to focus on my testimony for Sunday night. I had been asked to speak at a program at church and was humbled to think that I might have something to say about this cancer journey that could bless someone else. My sadness faded as I read and contemplated what I would say.
Seated by the window, I got comfy and started researching Scriptures. There was one man seated in the aisle seat before I even sat down, and other finally got on at the last minute and ended up sitting between us.
The first guy (whom I'll call "Aisle Guy" for now; he'll get a different, more appropriate name later) says, "Hey, I like your hair cut. It's smokin' hot!"
A little taken aback, I smiled politely in his general direction and continued to take notes. Long flight. Best not to make enemies too early on.
Aisle Guy then takes off his ball cap to show me his haircut which is similar to mine. "This is why I like it! See? Same!"
Again, I just nodded nicely and kept working.
"So, does your husband tell you that your hair is hot? 'Cuz it is. Really hot. I really like it. It's very attractive on you. Really hot. Hey, where is your husband, anyway? Why does he let a smokin' hot gal like you come on a trip alone, anyway? Tell her," he says to Middle Seat Guy, "She doesn't look like she believes me at all."
Middle Seat Guy is a middle aged guy. He is obviously very uncomfortable with what is going on although he is game for a little while. "Yes, it looks very nice," he offers.
Aisle Guy is not satisfied with that kind of talk. He says with not a small amount of outrage in his voice, " 'Nice?!!' It's not 'nice'; it's a smokin' hot hair do'! It's awesome! She's awesome!"
Middle Seat Guy then makes a big show of putting on headphones and leans back in his seat with eyes closed and hands folded over his chest. He's out.
I notice quickly that the headphones are not plugged in to anything. Good one.
At this point, I begin to suspect that Aisle Guy is very, very inebriated. He, however, is not to be deterred by my reluctance to talk. He takes another tack and leans over Middle Seat to say, "So, no offense or anything, but are you recently just, you know, into that? Like converted or something?" as he points to and vigorously nods at my Bible.
When I say that I'm not a really that recent a convert to Christianity, that I've been saved almost 5 years now, he launches into a slurry, rambling tirade. "Well, if God is really a vengeful God like that (points to Bible) says he is, well, I don't think I believe that, y'know? Cuz I try to just follow the ten commandments in my life and so I'm a good person. Hell, I'm Irish Catholic, so I was an altar boy an' stuff, y'know? But I just stick with those ten commandments, except for when I was in the Middle East. I mean, "Thou Shalt Not Kill"? Huh. That's kind of why they sent me over there, right? I ended up breaking that one. It's like shooting a deer, really. Not that big of a deal. Well, like shooting a lot of deer actually. But it's not like they were Americans, right? If you believe what it says in there (gesture at Bible again) then you must think I'm going to hhhh.... um, that I'm not going to heaven, right? Do you really think that? Really?" Earnest, blurry eyes try unsuccessfully to focus on my face.
I'm feeling very, very uneasy after his confession on a spiritual level, and completely nauseated on a human level, so I throw him a bone. "Actually, " I say, "the Bible says that over and above the ten commandments given to Moses, two other commandments are even more important. Jesus said, 'Love the Lord your God and love your neighbor as yourself.' He said those were the two greatest commandments, so maybe you could focus on those two instead of just the ten."
"Oh no! I follow the ten commandments because that's what God said to do. Well, except for that one about killing. And I probably have lied. Isn't stealing on there too? Well, if God is so judgemental, I don't care if I go to hell then. Seriously, I know I'm heading there, right? And that's what you think, isn't it?"
Before I get a chance to answer, he shouts for another double scotch. Yikes. I search frantically for the hidden camera and Alan Funt.
He doesn't let it go for quite a while and I'll admit I don't think I was a very good witness. It's kind of hard to quote scripture to a drunk guy at 32,000 feet. But I tried and we were very loud, so maybe I witnessed to lots of people on that plane. Hopefully some of them were sober enough to gain something from the conversation because I doubt Drunk Guy got very much out of it. But, you never know.
Drunk Guy eventually tired of my preaching at him and went back to the ol' standby, "Hey, your hair is really smokin' hot!"
By that point, I'd simply had enough. I figured it was time to level with him. "Look, I don't have this haircut by choice, okay? I miss my ponytail and being able to push my hair behind my ears. I don't like being cold all the time and having to wear hats. I don't like looking like my dad. I only have short hair because of chemo. I have stage 4 breast cancer."
I don't know why this next development astonished me. I mean, I really should have seen it coming, but Drunk Guy got very quiet and looked away for a moment. When he turned back to me, he had tears rolling down his face and was quite shaken up. "So, you're, like, dying right now? You could die from this, right? Like soon and stuff?"
When I replied that we're all dying right now and that I just don't know what God has in mind for me, Drunk Guy promised to pray for me 'forever'. Not sure if he was going to do that from hell, nor can I be sure who he was going to pray to, but I assured him I appreciated his gesture.
That was just a few minutes before we landed, and he continued to be sad and weepy (and blessedly silent) until the seatbelt sign went off.
As we trudged through the jetway to the terminal, Middle Aisle Guy and I stayed well back from staggering Drunk Guy, who had just asked Middle Seat Guy for a job. (Drunk Guy may have trouble keeping work.)
As we were kind of hiding behind a pillar, I called Middle Aisle Guy on his unplugged headphones. He said there was no way he was going to get involved in that conversation, plus he was really entertained by all the stuff that Drunk Guy said about him (Middle Seat Guy) during the flight. He mentioned that I should have told Drunk Guy about the cancer earlier.
So, yeah, lesson learned. Next time, I'll open with the cancer.
For now, a simple prayer for my drunk friend: "Lord, please be with this man in a very real way. Let him know Your love is only conditional on his sorrow for sins committed, not on the horror of the sin itself. Let him know that You love him deeply in spite of his imperfections. Also Lord, bless all soldiers everywhere who may be dealing with this very strong sense of guilt and just wrongness, with this struggle between allegiance to country and allegiance to You. I don't know the answer but You do. Heal each one, in Christ's name. Amen."
That takes us through the first three hours of my trip. Come back soon for the rest of the story.
Just a few teaser photos for now. The bottom one shows the temp... see that? 72 degrees! SO nice!
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