Getting To Know You

For most people who know me, it comes as no revelation that I am a bit of a misanthrope. I tend to keep my head down, moving from one necessary interaction to the next with the notion of streamlining my existence and limiting my human contact. This may be a result of being the son of one of the most gregarious people ever to grace this planet. My father knew most everyone in Boulder and the adjacent metro areas, and as a result I spent many long hours over the course of my youth waiting for my dad to finish saying hello to all of his sundry acquaintances. And he was always glad to introduce himself to strangers as well. He took Will Rogers' advice strictly to heart.
When I got older and had more control over my comings and goings, I made it a point to keep things on a "need to know" basis, as in "do you really need to know me?" When traveling, I tended to use the tips from "The Accidental Tourist", such as bringing a book along on any plane or other conveyance where there might be a chance for social interaction. Taking the window seat provides another distraction from any possible connection with fellow travelers.
When I got married, that ended. My son insists on the window seat, and if my wife can't nudge me into conversation, she's just as happy to chat up the stranger across the aisle. On our most recent trip, she managed to find two other ten-year-olds for my son to share a row with, while she ended up a row ahead, with the father of the girl who moved back to fill out the trio. They sat in front of me, like Harry, Ron and Hermoine on their way to their first year at Hogwarts, and I watched these little strangers become friends. And every so often, when I looked up from my Rolling Stone, I felt a little pang of jealousy. I guess it comes with the territory.