Learning To Fly
Many years ago when I was still young and foolish at heart I hurt a caring man that I was dating. The relationship seemed doomed although I sincerely asked for forgiveness. At that point most people would give up, but I, being heavily influenced by the Latino cultural value of "fight for what you want," decided I wasn't going down that easily.
Over the next few months, I pulled some stunts that many people would have considered nuts. But as my good friend Alessia told me, "He will only think it's crazy if he doesn't like you." By far the most memorial of my antics was the "surprise flight to Mexico." I began by asking a lady friend of mine to teach me how to make a classic Hispanic dish, the Devil's Shrimp. Claudia's "little diablos" were perfect: plump, fresh, swimming in homemade tomato and jalapeño sauce. I paid close attention, and after much practice, I mastered the recipe.
When the camarones were ready for their debut I decorated my kitchen like a traditional house in Puebla, Mexico, complete with cactus-printed wallpaper and clay-looking plastic doors. That day Mr. Reluctant agreed to stop by, and when I pulled out a blindfold he was clearly hesitant. Somehow I convinced him to play along. Once inside I guided him inside to a chair, where I proceeded to play pre-recorded "airplane sounds" from my computer. Then, in my best azafata voice, I began my "Prepare for Take-off" speech. At the time my Spanish accent was very poor, and I must have sounded ridiculous. But my desire to win him back was greater than my embarrassment, and I pressed on. To this day I remember how to say random things like "fasten your seatbelts" and "refrescos now being served". As I spoke, I grabbed hold of his chair, leaned it backward for the take-off, and shook it hard to mimic turbulence. After a few minutes of engine noise I sang out, "Now landing in Puebla, Mexico!" and slowly lowered his chair back on the ground. Then, with all the drama of Marilyn Monroe I whipped off his blindfold and revealed a long, brightly-colored table filled with Devil's Shrimp, golden, steaming Spanish rice, and rows of pan dulce. I held my breath and prepared for him to A.) Quickly flee or B.) Be absolutely touched and think, maybe this woman is worthy of forgiveness. Yes, it was a goofy thing to orchestrate. But it's one of the best memories I have from a noviesgo (courtship.)
When the camarones were ready for their debut I decorated my kitchen like a traditional house in Puebla, Mexico, complete with cactus-printed wallpaper and clay-looking plastic doors. That day Mr. Reluctant agreed to stop by, and when I pulled out a blindfold he was clearly hesitant. Somehow I convinced him to play along. Once inside I guided him inside to a chair, where I proceeded to play pre-recorded "airplane sounds" from my computer. Then, in my best azafata voice, I began my "Prepare for Take-off" speech. At the time my Spanish accent was very poor, and I must have sounded ridiculous. But my desire to win him back was greater than my embarrassment, and I pressed on. To this day I remember how to say random things like "fasten your seatbelts" and "refrescos now being served". As I spoke, I grabbed hold of his chair, leaned it backward for the take-off, and shook it hard to mimic turbulence. After a few minutes of engine noise I sang out, "Now landing in Puebla, Mexico!" and slowly lowered his chair back on the ground. Then, with all the drama of Marilyn Monroe I whipped off his blindfold and revealed a long, brightly-colored table filled with Devil's Shrimp, golden, steaming Spanish rice, and rows of pan dulce. I held my breath and prepared for him to A.) Quickly flee or B.) Be absolutely touched and think, maybe this woman is worthy of forgiveness. Yes, it was a goofy thing to orchestrate. But it's one of the best memories I have from a noviesgo (courtship.)
Rarely in life do we find instant results for our efforts. My friend did not forgive me that day. But, he didn't take flight, either. Months later, with the help of time, respect, and more "kind, silly" acts, I saw an ugly, dead tree take on shades of green. Then, unexpectedly, in the middle of that summer I was badly injured in a river accident. Life dealt me the cruel lesson that only in rough times do you come to know those who really care for you. In the months that followed my recovery, in a time when I could not walk and I was no longer the life of the party, ninety five percent of my friends disappeared. This gentleman was in the five percent that remained. I will forever value the great company and support he gave me in that lonely, dismal period. One year later, we decided we were not compatible for a long-term relationship, but left off on good terms. To this day I consider him a friend. I am without a doubt glad that I fought for that relationship. I would do it all over again, even knowing that this fellow was not "the one."
I firmly believe that if someone loves you, they will fight to be with you, and they won't take no for an answer. They will swallow their pride and exhaust themselves for a chance to be by your side. They may not blindfold you and "transport" you to your country of origin because they know you miss the food, but they will do something (anything). If they do nothing, then that's probably what you mean to them.
Without something to fight for, and without passion, we are living in black and white. We won't come close to the bright, blinding, rich colors that only the truly passionate will experience. After all, we only get one journey. One flight. Sure, we may crash. But the pain of the coming down won't be as bad as reaching the end of life and wondering. Over and over I've heard the saying, "At the end of life you don't regret the things you do. You regret the things you don't do." To me this is all the more reason to get in the plane and fly it.
