It's A Small World

They always say that it’s a small world and every time I hear that cliché, I get that damn song stuck in my head, but not the Disney version – the version from Family Guy when Stewie was kidnapped and forced to sing and perform it – but I digress.

So, yes – it’s a small world – but I only truly believed that after one of my many long flights to Australia. It had been 2 years since I graduated high school and I was returning for a 6-week visit during my summer holidays. I was excited, even though I do find the flight long and stressful. The scheduled stop-over for this flight was in Hawaii, but I usually never got to leave the airport, so it was no biggie.

We were only meant to have to wait about 45 minutes to 1 hour, but there we all were, waiting in the lobby for 2...3...4 hours and counting. Luckily, it was back in the day when they allowed smoking areas in the airport and there were quite a few of us camped out there, all wondering what the hell was going on.

After I had sucked back about ½ a pack of smokes and the 4th hour had come and passed, I had surpassed boredom and had graduated into curious stranger mode. I wanted to make friends with someone else on the flight so we could bitch and complain together. I am a very social creature by nature, and I needed some form of conversation with someone, anyone; my vocal cords were feeling neglected.

I scanned the room for someone preferably similar to my age and general ‘style’ – sorry, in these instances I had no choice but to judge a book by its cover. Then I found a guy – looked to be a couple years older than myself, but definitely within the same stage of life. He looked like your typical ‘backpacker’; he had scruffy long brown hair, black Doc Marten boots, cargo pants and a Rip Curl T-shirt that was long past its expiry date. I wasn’t attracted to him or anything – he just seemed like the type of guy I would enjoy some small talk with. (Not to mention one of my main reasons for that trip was to visit my then-current love ‘o my life, so I wasn’t scoping the room to pick-up.)

I went over and begun some small chitchat. He luckily responded very positively to my initial introductions and shifted his body around a bit, towards me – which indicated that he was open to further conversation. Horray! He didn’t think I was some weirdo – or maybe he did, but was just as bored as me, who knows. He was Australian and had just been in Quebec for a while and was returning home. Naturally, I continue my third degree of his life and it went something like this:

What part?

Victoria.

Cool, that’s where I lived too... where, more specifically?

Doncaster.

Wow. I lived in Mitcham – pretty close.

Yeah they are. What school did you go to?

Mullauna.

Really? I have a cousin that went there a few years ago... but I seriously doubt you would know her – I hate when people ask me stupid questions like that.

Yeah, me too – but we’ve got nothing better to do, so try me. What was her name?

Renee Smith.

FUCK OFF! She’s one of my closest mates!

NO, YEEEWW FUCK OFF... REALLY?

Yes, really! I’m on my way to visit her and a couple other good mates right now.

That was just bizarre! Not only were the odds of that slim to none, but furthered by the fact that out of the 200 people on this flight, I specifically chose to talk to him... solely based on his appearance.

As for our flight? It got delayed for an entire day and they put us all up in a hotel – food and room paid for by the airline. SA-WEET! So, we got a free mini-vacation in Hawaii and I had a cool mate to share it with. We had a great time hanging out together – it was the best stop-over I ever had.

It was even weirder when I finally got to Australia and showed Renee all my photos of me in Hawaii... with her cousin. Whatta trip!