Talk To Strangers!

As I was walking back to my room from work today, I came across something wonderful that my mother always warned me against, talking to strangers. 

Most of you who know me, know that I only like talking with strangers when the mood strikes me.  This happens at bars, when I am lost, frustrated, or just having a really fantastic day.  Never on the phone, I hate talking to strangers on the phone, even if it is just to order a pizza.

Today, I was walking back to my room by myself.  My NCO realized at shift change that he had forgotten to call his wife to tell her “Happy Thanksgiving,” and decided to stay late to call her.  As I left, I thought about what route I wanted to take back to the housing area. 

On a normal day, I cut through two parking lots and the boardwalk.  Lately, not wanting to interact with people, I have been walking around the boardwalk taking a dark, less used dirt pathway that is closer to the road.  In the morning, the boardwalk is almost bare of people.  The shops are still closed, with the exception of the “Open 24 hours” food stops, there are a few people running on the track in the middle of the boardwalk, and those on the actual boardwalk are there to observe, drink coffee, or check out the events board. 

I decided to cut through the boardwalk this morning.  It made sense since it kept my current anti-socializing self satisfied and it was the shortest route.

As I was walking along the boardwalk, I noticed the shop owners cleaning and setting up their store fronts, the group of Soldiers conducting PT, and a few people hanging around just checking out the boardwalk as though it was their first time seeing it.  As I was about to exit the boardwalk, I passed the latter staring at a menu posted on the wall.  I could compare him to Santa Claus.  He was obviously a civilian contractor by his appearance.  He was slightly overweight showing a beer gut through his suspenders.  On his face was a white and brown goatee.  He was wearing a baseball cap, an unbuttoned red plaid flannel shirt, and khaki pants.  As I was passing him, he called out to me, “Excuse me, can you help me for a second?”  I took a few more steps, not really lost in thought but debating whether or not to ignore this plea for assistance.  That part of me that cannot resist an opportunity to aid an individual in need could not be kept silent and I turned around to greet him. 

Not saying a word, I walked up to him and just waited for him to speak.  He obliged saying, “I am not trying anything funny here, but do you Skype?” 

“He must not know about my struggle with technology,” I thought but politely responded with, “Oh no, I don’t, sorry.” 

Preparing to walk away from him, I hesitated as he asked another question, “Do you call home with phone cards?”

“Yes, I do, when I have them,” thinking about the minutes I purchase for my cell phone and the AT&T building that steals minutes from you for just dialing a number.

He then reaches into his flannel shirt pocket.  “Great, I meet the only scalper in country who wants to try and sell me a phone card,” was my first thought.  I wondered about his true intentions for a moment when he pulls out a tiny green pouch.   It was made of felt and had a reindeer made of felt patches on it with a little felt handle.  Inside was a phone card for 300 minutes.  He handed it to me and said, “Happy Holidays.”

A big smile came across my face as I thanked him and chuckled at my previous thoughts.  Amazing how I didn’t even want to stop and help this man, when all he wanted to do was help me.

All I could think of then was “Pass it forward.”