‘Temporary’ friends can be friends in need too
They’re called temporary friends, people with whom you form an instant bond because you’re in the same place at the same time going through the same experience.
And, because both parties are receptive to making a connection.
Timing, geography, circumstance put you on the same path, if for only a short time, and somehow make that stretch of your life journey a bit more interesting, a tad more enjoyable or even a whole lot more comforting.
You make them during any shortterm experience that brings together strangers and leaves them friends. Sometimes they guide you through a crisis; sometimes they elevate a moment.
Even though “accidental” relationships never last longer than the experience you share, the memories of another person’s kindness and camaraderie can live in your heart forever.
We recently took a long-awaited Caribbean cruise, using up the last of our COVID travel credits. When we boarded the ship, I instantly felt lonely. Lost in a crowd.
But on the very first day, my husband and I befriended a couple from Ohio. We bonded over lost luggage. As we walked the decks in search of our missing bags, we laughed and shared stories of other travel mishaps. We ran into this couple several times, including on a fateful catamaran excursion our last day.
All week, we met other people who were friendly, open and kind. A couple from western Massachusetts, another from Elgin, Illinois, another from Boulder City, Nevada, a crazy fun guy from West Virginia and, my favorite, Monique from “just north of Toronto.”
We have traveled some over the years and often made temporary friends but this time was different. It seemed every activity we participated in and every place we sat for a spell, other people reached out.
It was as if everyone had been let out for recess after long, stressful hours of exams.
I couldn’t tell you their politics or their religion. I don’t know what kind of car they drove or what kind of house they lived in. We didn’t delve deep because we didn’t want to judge. We just wanted to enjoy the company of other human beings.
Instead, we talked about our home towns, our families, nature, wildlife, our careers, our concerns about aging and how fortunate we were to meet at this point in time in this very beautiful part of the world.
We live in a world that too often seems angry and at odds, divided and hurtful. But when you tune out the politicians and forget the polls and just chat with real people, you realize, or perhaps remember, that we have a lot in common.
We all want to be loved, to be cared about, to be successful in our efforts and to feel that our lives matter. Most of us have an innate desire to be helpful and a need to believe we are not alone on this journey.
On the last day of this recent trip, a group of about nine of us sat on the nets of a catamaran, chatting and laughing and sipping rum punch as we sailed to the island of Nevis. It was everything I could want on a break from Chicago’s winter.
There’s something magical about how fleeting it all is. You’ll never have this again. You’ll never be in the same place at the same time with these same people again.
I knew the island was the birthplace of Alexander Hamilton. I asked the captain if my husband and I could take a taxi to the founding father’s first home (now a museum) instead of sunning on the beach.
He said he’d hail a driver but that we only had an hour so we should be first off the vessel. We gathered our things and headed for the metal stairway that led to the beach.
The last thing I remember was the sound of screams. Apparently, a large boat came too close to ours, creating a giant wake that sent a powerful wave between the hulls where the ladder descended.
The water hit me the hardest. I was washed off the steps. The next thing I remember I was sitting on a chaise lounge on the beach. The crew not only caught me, but gathered all of my belongings, which, thankfully, were sealed in plastic.
Immediately, I was surrounded by my new friends, one of whom was a doctor, another of whom had Advil, several of whom offered drinks, towels or to just sit with me, even though this was their vacation too.
Luckily, I didn’t break anything but I pulled what seemed like every muscle in my chest. I liken it to enduring the drawn part of being drawn and quartered. Ouch.
We didn’t get to Hamilton’s house. And it was a painful way to end a trip. But it also was a wonderful way to end a trip, surrounded by people who cared.
The next day, at the airport, I ran into Monique. She hugged me and we talked for a bit about the crazy experience.
Life is unpredictable and sometimes you have to roll with the rogue waves. We were lucky to have so many kind people there to help us through.
Temporary friends can never take the place of true friends. They aren’t meant to. But they allow us to send positivity into the universe and bask in the joy of it boomeranging back.
“People are great, aren’t they?” she replied, as she turned toward her gate.
Indeed.