Cool Day

Today, I have an attitude. The kind of attitude that almost always guarantees there will be bundles of joy for me. It was a bitingly cold late December morning, but the sky was bright blue and and even the train station I'd arrived at was feeling hopeful and jolly with its scraggly little Christmas tree and train-related ornaments. Small patches of earth were covered with delicate head-drooping snowdrops doing their best to survive the winter chill. It all made me glad to be alive. In the distance church bells were ringing their lovely sonorous melody. Everything around me felt right and uplifting and hopeful. The stationmaster, clutching a steaming cup of tea was cheerful and welcoming despite his job in the bone-chilling winter weather. All felt right in the world today.

I was traveling by train to spend Christmas with my parents and older sister in the Lake District town of Cockermouth (of Wordsworth fame) and I boarded the train full of happy optimism and confidence in my new beige mohair coat, chocolate-brown high-heeled shoes, tan leather gloves and forest green wool dress. After a quick nap - almost inevitable with the rocking of the train - I left my suitcase in the compartment and strolled along the corridor towards the dining car for a cup of coffee. I spotted an attractive young man, about my age - early twenties, I thought, gazing out of the window at the little puffy drops of snow beginning to fall onto the passing miles of fields and villages. I was hoping for a little conversation, so I said "Hello - isn't the snow lovely?" He said "Just beautiful and peaceful." I was in a holiday mood, so I thought a little flirting would be okay, as long as it was subtle. I draped myself in what I hoped was a slightly seductive pose against a nearby door. The train wobbled and rattled along the tracks and it was difficult to keep my position against the door.

Suddenly the train lurched sharply as it rounded a bend and, to my horror, the door I was leaning on, which I had not noticed was a bathroom, swung open and I fell backwards with a loud thud and landed squarely in the toilet bowl with my legs and beautiful new shoes sticking straight up in the air. I couldn't reach into my mind for a reaction, having never had such an odd experience before.

I looked for something to grab onto for leverage to help me escape, but there was nothing within reach. I was stuck, tightly jammed in a most unladylike position, the object of my flirtation staring down at me. I could see multiple expressions cross his face, shock, fear, amusement, confusion, but after pausing for a few seconds he let out great booming guffaws of laughter - the kind of "church" laughter that one can't stop no matter how inappropriate it is. Nothing can make it stop. Nothing. So, still laughing he offered me his hands to pull me out, but he was doubled over with laughter, so he was of little help. His tugs would not budge me. He tried pulling on my shoulders to no avail. Not until he was able to grab me under my arms and pull harder and harder, over and over was I able to suddenly pop out of the toilet like a cork from a champagne bottle and land on the floor in my ruined soggy clothes. The back of my expensive (splurge!) furry mohair coat was soaked in toilet water. I was dripping, clammy and matted like a wet dog !

The lovely young gentleman was clearly in a quandary - trying to ask if I was hurt, but still overtaken by unbridled laughter. Despite knowing I had at least three more hours in my wet outfit, I couldn't help but join in the laugher and he gallantly lent me his jacket as we celebrated my freedom together.

I had tried to be "cool" but "coolness" had never been part of my twenty three years of life's experiences. Something always gets in the way, (my mother said I could trip over a piece of thread!) If I made a comment I thought was sincere it could be completely inappropriate or unintentionally blunt or rude. Once one of my under garment's elastic failed and dropped down when I was window-shopping on Regent Street in London, so I just stepped out of it and kept walking. I was invited to a dinner party and served what looked like bones and asked the host "Is this a joke?" It was, apparently, an expensive delicacy involving bone narrow. Foot in mouth seems to be my default position.

My new friend, the laughing toilet rescuer, and I bonded on such a delightful level that day. The journey continued and we talked as if we had know each other for decades. It happened just like that. There was never any doubt that we were destined for a future together. We recognized what it was and were overjoyed by our strangers-on-a-train meeting. I, with my accident-prone clumsy body and total inability to be "cool", and he with what he admitted was his frequent bad timing and guilt after laughing when humor was not welcome. What a great match! A pair of sometime misfits that understood each other so well in the blink of an eye.

The next time we met was in London two weeks later. We grew together through all four seasons; winter was our favorite. Ups and downs? Yes, of course, but laughter was always our life-raft, our saving grace when we were challenged or ill or unemployed and struggling. It is our light that never goes out - the joy that keeps us sane in a difficult world and the way we stay grounded if we begin to feel lost.

We relish every moment together because we find so much fun, even in the mundane. For us, this clumsy, inappropriate couple, life is magical and delicious.

We still laugh. Every day. It keeps our perspectives healthy when times are hard. We play, we have fun. We battle our demons and face our hardships, but we never forget to laugh. We still love trains and snow and Christmas. And each other, come what may.

And how we love it when asked "How did you two meet?" "Well, fifty-five years ago on a train......"