Seems a chunk of my day will be air-ing in one form or another.
Right now, it's hanging in the very small San Diego commuter terminal for quite a long time. Monday after Christmas, recent flying scare, I mean, anything could've been possible, and I want to be sure I get home. Fortunately, it's all mellow and ordinary. So that means I get some quality time in a very small terminal space. Without many amenities.
There IS the young Indian couple nearby (not at all that they're an amenity, simply an unfolding drama), apparently just married based on phone conversations and gorgeous henna tattoos covering her hands and partially arms. And the large, sparkly ring on her finger. It sounds like the wedding didn't go particularly well. Apparently there were many hours of tears after. And lots of family drama. And 6 hours of her getting ready. I think such is how weddings often, often go. Which makes me so sad. What happened to the joy? When did all the things and wonderful rituals we do to mark special moments become giant productions, terribly expensive, stressful and unfun and not really what anyone wants in the end? How did we find ourselves so far down this path of devoiding our rituals of meaning and making them painfests? Repeatedly? So now it's accepted, maybe expected. Reason No. 92 I never want a wedding.
And unfortunately, the couple is now arguing. Replaying, rehashing, trying to make something about it feel better. It's always, always so much easier to observe others, see their clear unhappiness and wonder what is it they really need? What is causing their unhappiness and how can they stop or change that? Of course, with our very own lives, somehow it's not quite so simple to see, is it?
So she cries, in the airport, the morning after her wedding, that clearly went terribly for her. Her husband tries to comfort her, tries to say the right things, it doesn't appear to be helping. A cute little Japanese boy stops and stares outright at her tears. That must make her feel better. And so the circular conversation continues. She accuses him of only tuning in because she's in tears ... which may be fair and accurate, but then, how much does she ask him for what she needs/clue him in otherwise? Who knows?
I really do seem like a terrible vulture here, but it's really hard to escape, she's sitting right in front of me, in my direct line of vision. And the line "and what about your parents" was just uttered ... uh-oh, that never bodes well.... Those painful, spiraling conversations, we've all had them, driven by pain, fueled by confusion and miscommunication. There never seems to be a good resolution until we can find our way to the core of it all.
The postscript is the couple stayed with me until the LAX Hudson News shop (well, one of the many). They were a row back on the commuter flight, on the shuttle bus, then the shop. Then, off on their way. Things seemed to be better. I wish them the very utmost best.