Tales: Air-Born and Starving

Being hungry makes me do things I otherwise would not.

In college, while on a ten hour flight home from London, I asked the sophisticated British grandmother next to me if she was "going to eat that," gesturing to her unopened packaged roll from dinner.  I had already scarfed down all of my food and the flight attendants would be coming by soon to pick up the trash.  She looked at my empty plate, paused to consider this bold, thrifty American way, and then with a little bit of youthful pep said, "Oh, well, no, I am not.  You eat it."  As she leaned away from her food to give me space to grab the precious roll, she let out a reserved, very British smile.

When I think back to that moment, I am often shocked at myself.  I'm sure I figured that asking about her uneaten food was no big deal since we had already been seat mates for hours.  We'd talked about politics, her children and how they loved horses and dogs more than her desire for grandchildren ("Truly British," she'd said.  "Dogs and horses."), her husband, her travel plans, and other little life details.  I guess sharing food was the only thing left to develop in our air-born relationship.  Or maybe I simply considered that in a few more hours I would never see her again.  Either way, at times I am shocked that I did such a thing.

And then there are other times when I am not so shocked--like right now as I sit on a plane, slowly nibbling my fifth package of Biscoff cookies within three days with a narrow hope that wheat flour, sugar, and vegetable oil can hold me over until landing when I can finally scavenge for food.  At times like this I cease to believe that my actions on that plane home from London were irrational.

For some people it's love, for others money.  For me, it's totally food.