Leftovers?

I did quite a bit of flying last week. Newark, NJ to Minneapolis, MN to Tucson, AZ. Then, Tucson, AZ to Salt Lake City, Utah to Newark, NJ. These two very small treats were the going bill of fare for the flights. Not much in the way of sustenance.

The man sitting next to me ate his peanuts as if he hadn't eaten all day, scarfing them down quickly, one by one, as if it would feel that there were more than 10 nuts in the pack. A while later, he managed to go purchase a candy bar at the back of the plane. He reappeared, eating as if it were contraband. I felt bad for the poor guy, and was secretly happy that I had eaten a turkey sandwich on a whole grain roll during my 2.5 hour layover.

What I really wish I had done was snap a photo of my limo driver from last night, as I arrived home at 12:40 am EDT. His name was Matthew. He was from Greece. His limo smelled of smoke. He looked like a young version of Tony Sirico, who played Paulie Walnuts on the Soprano's, sans the white wings of hair.

Why a limo driver? Well, dear Matthew was an interesting fellow. He asked me many questions in his thick Greek accent, then proceeded to discuss life, creativity, and God, in the manner of Socrates discussing such topics in Plato's Republic.

I did my best, dear friends. It was quite a challenge for my burned out, jet lagged brain. The man was a Master! This went on for almost an hour, and he was laughing and slapping his steering wheel, each time I managed to answer him correctly. Before I knew it, he had me laughing and questioning him.

"How is it that you drive a limo taxi? You should be teaching philosophy at a university." He went on to explain to me that he ended up in his position because he did not follow his dreams of being a writer, and that he listened to people who discouraged him and took him away from what he loved to do in order to make money.

He was convinced that I had been sent to him on purpose, and that because of me, he was now inspired to write his first book. The man was outrageous! I liked him, yet was not convinced of his sanity.

Right before we got to my house, he asked, "Do you know what the last lines of The Republic are?" Before I could say, "No," he proceeded to tell me about living with virtue, our immortal souls, and that we should all live dear to one another.

Since I had told him about why I had gone to Arizona to visit an old friend, he went on and on about my group of friends being angels, and in the end told me that he liked me.

Matthew had driven me home on the local roads and waived the normal $19 toll fee. He gave me a $5 off coupon, carried my heavy bag to my front door, and bowed to me as he left. Right before he turned to leave, he said,

"Finish rewriting your book, for to write is to rewrite. I will read your book one day and be happy to say that I once had the pleasure of driving you home. You are special."

Exhausted and on the verge of tears, I waved farewell and shut my front door. I'm not sure what that ride was all about, but can tell you this:

I will never forget my ride in Limo 3231!