The Stranger Beside Me

It has been forty years since I took American Airlines flight number 3282. It was just a one-hour flight from Los Angeles to San Francisco, but I cannot forget the impact that short flight has had on the last half of my life.

I remember it was a typical summer day in Los Angeles. The sun was peeking through some cumulus clouds. The Santa Ana wind plied its way through the trees and surrounding buildings as if a warm blanket was covering the city. I had just spent two weeks with my wife-to-be in the quaint town of Ojai. The excitement and joy of having been with the woman I love gave way to some depressing news. The voice over the loudspeaker informed me and the other passengers that the flight is going to be delayed due to an electrical problem on the airplane. I walked over to the window and saw my plane just sitting on the tarmac. The mobile stairs were pushed up against the aircraft and a man hurried up them. He entered the cabin. In the next moment there was a flash of light in the cockpit. The same man frantically ran back down the stairs and was stopped by another man. They were animatedly talking about something. They then climbed cautiously up the stairs back into the cabin of the plane. I glanced around the terminal to see if anyone else was viewing what I had witnessed. It did not seem so. Most passengers were seated, reading or talking to others. A few were pacing the floor near the gate. No one seemed that concerned about the flight delay.

I kept watch of the plane and the two men entering and exiting its cabin. They eventually left the area. Meanwhile, some ominous clouds had creeped in, chasing away any remaining sunshine. It didn't make much sense for the weather to change so quickly midday, especially in Southern California. Little did I know the rest of the day would prove to be as ominous.

Boarding the plane was finally allowed. It was not a full flight. I was the last one to board. Entering the cabin of the plane, the flight attendant asked for my boarding pass. She perused it, then mentioned that I should take the only seat available in the last row on the right. That was strange. I have never been told to take a specific seat on a flight. I made my way to the rear of the cabin and found the last vacant set in the last row. I noticed an impeccably dressed gentleman seated next to my seat. I sat down, fastened my seat belt. His gray hair was perfectly quaffed with a face that had no wrinkles. He seemed to be in his sixties, but I could be off a decade or two. He looked over at me and his blue eyes shimmered as if two ponds were glistening in the sunlight. The black suit he was wearing was accentuated by a cream-colored tie. The man was dressed for something way more formal than just a 500-mile plane ride.

"Are you traveling home?" the man asked, continuing to smile at me.

As I looked at him, I could see the sun was shining once again from the window beside him.

"Yes," I replied. "I spent two weeks with my wife-to-be, and I need to get back to work."

He acknowledged how precious my time with my fiancé was by stringing soothing words together in a way that I never imagined. His melodic voice put me at ease while we continued with small talk. The plane readied for take-off.

Soon after we reached cruising altitude, he leaned over and whispered, "I am sorry. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Uriel Sulegna."

I thought to myself what an unusual name as I shook his hand. I kept from being blase by not asking him what ethnicity he is. Rather, we continued to chat. Uriel did most of the talking. I did most of the listening. It was as if I was the pupil listening to the master, gaining insight into matters I had rarely even thought about.

Uriel wanted to know about my family and thoughts aboutwhat constitutes good family life. The truth was I had some hard times relating to my mom. I explained to this stranger what differences my mom and I were having. The words just spewed forward from my mouth without any hesitation. Why was I so forthcoming with this man?

As we continued our conversation about family, it became evident that I was missing the mark by shutting my mom off from further discussions. Uriel sited that my brother seemed to handle any differences with our mother in a more logical manner. How true, I thought to myself. Wait! I never mentioned to him I have a brother!

Just then the pilot spoke over the loudspeaker to warn us that the next twenty minutes would be a rough ride and to be sure to buckle up. For several moments there was silence between Uriel and me. What more does this man know about me? Did I, or did I not, mention my brother during any part of our dialogue? I was puzzled.

"Do you have a ten-year plan?" he softly mentioned.

"A ten-year plan?" I countered.

"Yes, have you set goals for yourself? Have you ever written down what you would like to achieve in a period of time?

I looked over at him as his smile became more intense. I felt odd, somewhat small. Should I have been more attentive to details in my life? Was I not conscientious, securing more of what was important to me? Uriel continued with the discussion, pointing out how important it is to have plans. He was emphatic about writing down all my goals.

"However," he hesitated, "Be careful what you write down."

I looked at him without a clue as to what he meant.

He smiled with those piercing blue eyes, "Be sure whatever you write down, you are prepared to accept."

I still had no clue what he meant.

He continued, "Once it is written down, it will happen."

Now I was becoming uneasy. Is there a hidden message in what this stranger is telling me? What am I missing? How did he know I have a brother? Why were the day's events leading up to this moment so unusual?

Suddenly the pilot's voice was heard once again warning us to prepare for our landing in San Francisco. I looked away from Uriel. I continued to ponder what he just told me. I was perplexed but invigorated.

The landing was smooth. The pilot made a rapid taxi to the gate. The passengers were quick to unbuckle their seat belts then stood in the aisle anxious to debark. Within a few minutes we were filing off the aircraft. Uriel and I were the last two to exit. I remember I was ahead of him as we descended the stairs to the tarmac. As I walked to the terminal, I realized I had not thanked him for the most interesting discussion. I turned to face him, but there was no one there! I quickly turned back to look ahead of me, then to my right and my left. I stopped, peering once again behind me. He was nowhere to be found. I moved on into the terminal never to see him again.

I took Uriel's advice and committed to a ten-year plan. I married my fiancé, had two beautiful children which were part of my original ten-year plan. And as that first decade had come to a close, I constructed a second, then a third ten-year plan. I had successfully accomplished all thirty-one goals in thirty years. Some of the goals proved costly and laborious, but gratifying. I knew at those moments why Uriel cautioned me to be careful with what I wrote down.

Uriel Sulegna has been on my mind a lot from the time I first met him. There was a period when I was intrigued by his name. In the Bible, Uriel is the archangel of wisdom. Reversing the spelling of his last name results in "Angelus", the Latin word for angel.