Brief encounteers.

One of the worst things about travelling is the persons you meet. Not the nasty people, who are temporary annoyances and easily forgotten. But the nice people. Those charming or thoughtful strangers that you encounter for a few minutes or several hours, whom you will never meet again. But you feel certain that given a chance they could become lasting and valued friends. But they live so far away and there's really not way to secure a bond. So you enjoy what little time you have with them and then they are gone forever. During my recent vacation, I met several such people. The TV journalist (who was carrying ice skates) with whom I chatted at Union Station in Washington, D.C. The pretty young student in Boston who missed several of her subway trains in order to help me figure out how to purchase a Charlie Card. The writer and movie reviewer who sat next to me at a B.U. production of Pacific Overtures. The cheerful young woman on the JetBlue flight who looked years younger than she was and lessened my fear of flying. All nice, intelligent people. But every now and then you are lucky. When I was twenty-one, fifty years ago, I met a young lady on the S.S. America on my return to New York from my first trip to  Europe. We've been friends ever since. And one is unlucky. I still miss the family of four with whom I shared a train compartment in Switzerland during that same long-ago trip.