When Life Introduces You to Sunday

I know I have said it before, but sometimes I think things are worth repeating. I honestly see myself as someone who is humble, and I am not one to brag or boast, and I have tried to not read too much into this, regardless of how many times I am reminded that it is actually happening. The more I am reminded of it, the more I become aware that it was happening.

Regardless of where I go, there is a high probability that someone, some stranger that I have never met, will come up to me and strike up a conversation. I truly love talking to people and having random conversations, so to me, I didn’t really think anything of it, until a few years ago.

I experienced one of the most impactful moments of my life, with a random stranger in the early morning hours of Sunday May 7th, 2023. That date will forever be cemented in my already jammed packed memory full of useless shit, that I will probably never use.

Anyway, I digress.

What was so serendipitous about this particular day is I wasn’t even supposed to be there. I was already supposed to be home, in my own bed trying to get back to the normal humdrum of my normal everyday life. But for whatever reason, fate, luck, or whatever in the hell you believe in had a different idea for me on that day.

Let me set the scene for you.

On that Saturday May 6th, 2023, myself, my wife, my brother in law and sister in law, who are apparently the only people on the planet brave enough or willing to travel internationally with me, were all traveling back from Cabo after a much needed and spectacular vacation. One of the best trips I have ever taken. The sun, the beach, the people, the food and of course the memories.

Apparently that was the preface for the short, impactful run in, that for whatever reason was how that trip was destined to end.

The return trip home was fine and everything was going as planned. We didn’t leave too early in the morning and not too late in the afternoon. We had it scheduled where we were not in a rush and could still enjoy our last morning in the sun and sand before we had to officially hitch a ride back to the hills of black.

It’s about a 45 minute commute from our resort to the airport in Cabo. Not too bad, except we were all shoved in the taxi like clowns in a sardine can, and believe you me, I take up some real estate, so my apologies to those other poor bastards that were stuck in there with me.

45 minutes felt like 45 fiscal hours in that toy car they called a taxi, but we made the best of it and had some fun conversations and a few laughs to help the time go by as we whizzed through the chaotic Mexican traffic. Chaotic or not, I sure do love that place.

On a side note, I have never seen so many South Dakota license plates out of, well, duh, South Dakota. Apparently it’s the place to register your vehicle, whether it stays stateside or not.

Well shit, I am getting sidetracked, so let’s get back to the matter at hand.

We eventually get to the airport and I am fascinated by airports, so this is one of my favorite parts of any trip I take. Aside from the logistics of how airports run, I love to people watch, and in my mind there is not a better place to people watch than inside the fishbowl of an airport.

You never really know what you might stumble upon and see or hear for that matter. I rather enjoy listening to people speak in their native tongues. I don’t have a fucking idea what they are saying, but it’s fun to listen and try and figure it all out.

We get our bags checked, our passports stamped and venture through the security line. Not quite as intense as the good ol’ American TSA, but a security line nonetheless.

It didn’t happen this go around, but speaking of TSA. Those rat bastards get awfully handsy. I mean they think they have the right to rub around my downstairs mixup or all over the bulbous hump of my backside without even buying me a drink first. The audacity and brazenness of some people.

Anyway, my sincerest apologies for going off on that little tangent, clearly I am not fully healed from that experience from a few years ago.

Eventually, we make our way through their security line and to our gate. Side note, apparently, according to some people, my wife, you can’t leave Mexico without stopping and picking up a bottle of vanilla, so once we made it past security, that was our first stop.

We eventually make it on board and get nestled in for the short, almost three hour flight to the great melting pot or shit sandwich that is Los Angeles. Not my first choice of airport to clear customs, but what can you do.

The flight was fine, no issues, the ginger ale was cold and crisp and the Cheez It’s were delectable. All in all, it was definitely not the worst flight I have ever been on.

We land, taxi to our gate, park and deplane in about as orderly of a fashion as you can, even though it seems like the majority of people lose all scope of manners and civilized behavior when traveling by air, but that is another story for another time.

This is where the fun part really begins.

Once off of the plane, we start walking through LAX towards Customs so that we can officially be cleared to return to U.S. soil. Now, I have been to quite a lot of airports in my life, but this was my first experience at LAX.

All I am going to say is, I was not impressed and Los Angeles you need to get your shit together.

I also am under the impression that in order to work for Customs and Border Protection, it is a requirement for employment to have a lack of any and all senses of humor. Not the friendliest group of individuals on this particular day, but what do I know, everyone is entitled to have a bad day.

Maybe this particular warm and fuzzy personality was having a bit of digestive distress and couldn’t stop shitting. I really don’t know, but he clearly had something shoved up his ass that he was desperately trying to remove.

Picture a bowling alley and the line you are not supposed to cross when you hurl the ball down towards those 10 white pins.

So, as we zig zag through the customs line, it is what I thought to be our turn to get our passports stamped. As I approach this little, angry, Californian Customs Agent, my foot slides right past a piece of tape on the floor, hence the bowling alley reference.

This little troll yells at me just like Gunnery Sergeant L. Hartman, from Full Metal Jacket yells at Private Leonard “Gomer Pyle” Lawrence, right after he finds a jelly donut in Gomer Pyle’s foot locker.

It was a little over the top and a little unnecessary if you ask me, but what do I know, I’m just some guy from a small town in South Dakota.

Being from the Mid West and being cursed with Mid West niceties, I simply apologize to the little gremlin, get my passport stamped and make my way to baggage claim.

We navigate the terrain of LAX and eventually find baggage claim. We grab our bags and continue the hike to security so that we can find our next gate and catch our last flight back to Denver.

We get through security without any issues and continue on towards our gate.

As I look over I see an escalator. Above the escalator I see the words To All Gates. Seems pretty god damn straight forward if you ask me.

Man were we WRONG.

As we approach the escalator that says again To All Gates, there is a security guard standing there. I ask him if we are headed in the right direction or is there another escalator that we should find that is going to be closer to the gate we need.

He chuckles and says, you don’t want to take this escalator, you are in the wrong building.

WRONG BUILDING.

Why the shit would there be a large sign that says To All Gates if we are in the wrong damn building. Call me stupid, but I assumed To All Gates legitimately meant FOR ALL GATES. Nope, apparently not.

Now my patience is wearing pretty thin at this point and we are getting hangry beyond an unmeasurable amount. Let’s just say tensions were high, and not the good kind of high.

The security guard that told us we were in the wrong building, also told us we are doing some construction and the train isn’t working, so you will have to walk outside to find the building you need to be in.

Well SHIT, why wouldn’t that be the case.

We finally find an exit and start the voyage to find our correct building. Luckily, it was only a block or two away and we officially made it to the right building.

We get our checked bags dropped off, make it through security, thank god at this point they weren’t very handsy. For as hangry as I was, some unsolicited groping was the last thing I needed, or so I thought.

We all get through security without any issues and decide we need to get some food before one of us ends up in silver bracelets and in the back of a squad car.

I couldn’t tell you the name of the place we decided to eat, all that mattered is they had food.

I wandered up to the lady working the register and simply ordered two chicken sandwiches and two Cokes. Not normally what I drink, but I figured after the shit show we had just gone through, I was allowed.

Anyway, it all gets rung up for the nice total price of 65 dollars. Not bad for airport prices. I’m kidding, for that kind of money, I should have probably received some unsolicited groping, but we won’t get into that here.

We get some food in us, and find our gate, and then we find ourselves a nice little quiet spot to sit since we had a few hours to kill and try to get in a little nap before our flight.

After a little while we noticed that our flight had been delayed about 45 minutes. Oh well, not that big of a deal.

Wrong again.

For those that have traveled enough, you are probably familiar with the concept of a rolling delay, where the delay starts and it simply keeps getting longer and longer and longer.

After some more time, our flight was delayed a couple of hours. Again, we weren’t too worried, because we were still going to get on the plane, and just be later than we thought.

Nope.

My wife looks at her phone and then looks up at the rest of us and simply says, Fuck, our flight just cancelled.

Luckily, we have traveled enough and dealt with enough of these situations that we don’t get too worked up or panicked, it is simply another joy of the risks of traveling.

We stand in line for what seems like eternity. Eventually, we make it to the ticket agent, but she says the fateful words, I have good news, and I have bad news. The good news is, I can get you seats, the bad news is they aren’t for four days.

What in the actual of all fucks are we supposed to do in the City of Angels for four days.

We felt bad for this ticket agent, she had been through the ringer that night, but my wife still asked to speak with a supervisor, because my wife had an ace up her sleeve.

The supervisor shows up and thanks to my wife’s past experience of working for the airlines, she asked the supervisor to see if he would be willing to check a certain outdated, but still operational program and see if he could find seats on another airline.

He was shocked that we knew about this certain program, and he was kind enough to check, and sure as shit, he was able to find us four seats the very next morning on United Airlines.

Without hesitation, we all said shit yes, we’ll take them.

After all of this, we had to find our way to our hotel and at this point it’s about 10:30 or 11 and we had to be back to LAX at 4 in the morning to catch our new flight.

That all seems fine and dandy except, our shuttle decides to not show up until almost midnight or a little before, at this point all of the fine details are a little foggy.

We get to the hotel, get checked in, but of course since our flight is so early, the hotel doesn’t have a shuttle, so we have to make Uber arrangements first thing when we wake up.

Shortly after getting checked in, we make it to our rooms.

Fortunately enough I have traveled enough that I always keep a clean pair of socks and undies in my backpack, just in case situations like these arise. My fellow travelers, not so fortunate.

However, we did have travel packs of laundry soap, instead of trying to get an hour or two of sleep, they were all washing clothes in the sink and bathtubs with Tide packets. I couldn’t make this shit up, if I hadn’t experienced it all.

After all of that, we finally got a little sleep, realistically, maybe an hour and a half or two hours before we had to wake up, get ready and head back to catch our flight.

My wife and I were the first ones up and down in the hotel lobby.

In the lobby, I saw they had some water. After I had my glass of water, I turned around and there was this tall, older black gentleman with a security guard uniform on.

I nod my head and tell him good morning, and he says the same back to me.

However, he continues the conversation, asking where I was from, where I came from, and where I was headed.

It was like three in the morning. Clearly, I was tired, but I answered his questions, and continued the conversation with him.

Out of nowhere, he tells me he is from Africa, but has been in the United States for a long time, got married, had children, raised them all in America, owns his own home, the whole works, he told me.

I asked him why did he come here.

He said because America is the land of dreams, and I could not have done what I have done with my life, if I didn’t come here.

He goes on to say, I may not be rich, but life is full, and my wife, kids and grandchildren are all happy and healthy and again, I couldn’t have had any of that, if I hadn’t decided to come to America.

Through our conversation, we laughed quite a bit and exchanged stories.

However, we had just a couple of minutes before our Uber showed up, but I had to ask him something.

I asked him, I’m curious, but why did you approach me this morning and tell me all about you and your life and family.

He said when I saw you walk into the lobby, there was something about you that I felt that I was drawn to you and you seem like you have a joyful and comedic outlook on life and I just wanted to talk to you and see if I was right, and I was, so thank you for listening to my story.

I am not usually one that is speechless, but I really don’t know what to say except you are welcome, and thank you for sharing, it was really great to learn about you and your life’s journey.

Our ride showed up, but I still wanted to introduce myself.

I walked back over and told him we have to leave, but my name is Austin, and thank you again for the chat this morning.

We responded with, I’m Sunday, and I want you to always remember that on this Sunday, you met a man named Sunday. It was nice talking with you, and have a safe trip back home.

I think about that experience often. I will never forget that on that Sunday, I met a man named Sunday.

I couldn’t help but think about that interaction the entire flight home, and I am comfortable enough to say that once we got in the air, this crazy wave of emotion came over me and I cried for a few minutes.

I couldn’t help it, but like I mentioned before, I am just a simple guy from a small town in South Dakota, but there is something I cannot explain, and something I cannot see draws people towards me in the most unforeseen situations, but I love and cherish them all, but this one will always hold a special place in my heart.

What I took away from all of this was that, if someone is willing to tell you about themselves, and their life and is comfortable enough to do so, give them a little of your time.

You may never know the impact it might have on you, so don’t pass on all opportunities to talk with a stranger, it could be profoundly impactful and in a strange way, life altering.

I will end with this.

Robin Williams once said “I don't know how much value I have in this universe, but I do know that I've made a few people happier than they would have been without me, and as long as I know that, I'm as rich as I ever need to be.”

For the man named Sunday, that I will probably never see or speak to again, I hope he can live by that saying because the way he made me feel that day and all the days after, he is certainly as rich as he will ever need to be.

He changed my life and I will forever be grateful to him for that, but also thankful that I took the time to talk to a total stranger and on that Sunday in May, life introduced me to a man named Sunday, and a Sunday that I will never forget.