Traveling Angels

It was January 1999. I was in Gare du Nordt, trying to rejoin my group of fellow classmates, board a train and return to London.

It was my sophmore year in college and I was spending a month traveling throughout the United Kingdom for a British Literature class. In the middle of our studies, a handful of us took a weekend, boarded a train, and set off to explore Paris. Upon arrival, I left my group and met up with a friend from high school who was living in Switzerland. She and I spent the weekend together, doing all the Paris things; now it was time get back to London, but first I needed to find my group - and most importantly the train.

I. Was. Lost. In the train station. I sat down on a bench to figure things out. When I heard in broken English . . .

“Red Hair Pretty.”

Stomach churned. Mind blank. Ughhhhh. Crap. I needed to figure this out. I needed to make this train. So I got up once again to look for the departure board and get to the correct train platform.

A guy got up and followed me. As I was looking at the departure board…

“Red Hair Pretty.”

Stomach churned. Mind blank. Palms began to sweat. I needed to figure this out - and quick. So I began walking to try to find an information booth and someone who could help me. Crap. No one was there.

The guy continued to follow me.

“Red Hair Pretty”

Stomach churned. Mind blank. Palms really sweating now - I needed to get somewhere safe so I could figure this out. I saw a bathroom. At least (in theory) this guy couldn’t follow me in there?

As I entered the bathroom, I saw a sister traveler. “Parle vu English?” I said in a horrible accent that would make any Parisian cringe.

Upon hearing my predicament, this fellow sister traveler turned into an angel and walked with me out of the bathroom; hand in hand, we passed “annoying guy” and she proceeded to take me to my train. My classmates were waiting for me with just-purchased vending machine ice cream and I boarded the train - grateful for friends who bought me ice cream, but most grateful for my traveling angel.

Somewhere between Paris and London, on that train, while enjoying ice cream - I experienced a sense of independence that created a rush, a sense of pride, and an unforgettable feeling of confidence.

It was a defining moment of my life. I had figured out a predicament in a foreign country, without knowing the language. I realized that in an uncomfortable circumstance that could have escalated quickly, I had the ability to find a solution.

I was empowered.

Growing up, my parents helped me develop “independence muscles.” I traveled to my grandmother’s on my own both by plane and car. As a high school student, from the suburbs, I drove all around downtown Indianapolis -even at night; and they put me on a flight to Germany before texting, GPS, and the internet were things.

My “independence muscles” grew through these experiences, so when I needed the strength to confront a challenge while traveling, I was prepared.

I still look back on my experience at the Paris train station as one that defined me. I had a dream to visit Paris. I did it, and I didn’t let some annoying guy ruin that dream for me.

This empowerment and confidence allowed me to believe in my dreams. My “independence muscles” would eventually be strong enough to enable me to

Work on Capitol Hill

Complete a graduate degree

Teach middle school

Build a career as a political consulatant

Stay at home full-time with my son

Create a blog

and dream even more dreams for the future

Along the way, I met fellow travelers and angels who empowered me. They have been training partners in building “independence muscles,” and while holding hands, together we dealt with people and situations more nefarious than the train station guy.

He is in the past, but annoyances continue. Most recently, some guy who kicks a football has become really annoying with regards to women who dream. People like him cause stomachs to drop, heads to blank, and for us to say “ah, crap!”

This football kicking guy stands in stark contrast to traveling angels who become teammates and cheerleaders.

I will forever be grateful to the woman in the bathroom who, despite my horrible French, diminished the displeasure of the “Red Hair Pretty” guy.

So in her memory - let us hold each other’s hands and walk past “diabolical lie” football guy and head in the direction of our dreams.