The following can also be found in the book Chicago Stories 1996. Click here to learn more, and to download a free electronic copy.

Southwest Airlines Flight 759, Chicago/Midway to St. Louis/Lambert Field

December 21, 1996

I've had the strangest feeling since I first spotted you in the terminal. I've had this overwhelming feeling that we know each other, that we are great friends and spend weekday evenings drinking in crappy bars and bitching about our lives to each other. I don't know why I feel this way, since obviously we don't know each other and, as far as I can tell, I don't think we've ever met. Nonetheless, the feeling persists, this feeling that we are actually traveling together across and into a new city. And now you are sitting directly across from me and one aisle back.

So. One hour to write a letter to you. I'm not sure what I'm going to say, but it beats what I was going to work on -- which, actually, is also a fun project but I've been spending way too much time on.

Our eyes keep catching each other's, but I don't know if that's because you're intrigued by me or because we're facing each other and you'd be looking in my direction anyway. When the woman with the oxygen mask walked by, you smiled and rolled your eyes at me, which I found charming.

What can I tell about you? Simple things -- you dress yourself and carry yourself in a way that reminds me of Carol Burnett (but this is obvious to you and you've probably been told this so many times that you're sick of it). You carry a promotional totebag from Adobe and read a book on web design, so it's pretty safe to assume that you're tied to the computer industry somehow, either as a profession, a major, or serious hobby. You laugh and make small talk with the men sitting next to you, men who don't look like the type of whom you'd normally enjoy their company, which means you're outgoing, slightly gregarious, and willing to exhibit at least some grace under pressure. Oh, and also, you're willing to make funny faces in public without thinking about it, which probably means you have a healthy sense of self-confidence. Also... you were willing to buy fundraiser candy at the airport, which means you have some sense of compassion; but then you didn't buy it when you found out it was two bucks, which means that you're as poor and cynical as me and my friends.

And me. I'm trying to think of the best way to synopsize this to a half-page. Hmm... I grew up in St. Louis, which is what's taking me to our destination. I've lived in Chicago two and a half years. I write novels for a living... thus the "poor and cynical" part. I write a lot -- lots and lots and lots and lots, so much so that I get afraid sometimes that I'm beginning to lose touch with the human part of humanity. I tend to hide a lot behind my paper and pen, like I'm doing right now with this letter. I used to not be this way, but certain events in my recent past are shaping me into this form that I don't like very much. It's too long of a story to go into, so... I won't.

Although I don't believe in any kind of fate, luck, superstition or the like, I nonetheless still consider the gray "ARMY" shirt that I'm currently wearing as a lucky shirt. It's a contradiction, I know. I have never been in the military -- the shirt was a gift from my cousin, who is planning a career in the army. He's a good person, but a little different from me. We were actually born two hours apart, me in St. Louis and he in Kansas City, the first two grandchildren in the family. Anyway, I always wear this shirt on flights, for several reasons: 1) I don't think it ever hurts to have a little more luck on an airplane flight (I'm not actually afraid of flying, but I have to admit that the takeoff and landing parts scare the shit out of me); and 2) Along with playing my Walkman really loudly, wearing my "ARMY" shirt makes me feel tough and mysterious, neither of which I am at all in real life. I suppose we all do our little things to get us through the stress which is Midway at Christmas.

Well, they just announced St. Louis, much more quickly than I thought they would, so I'll wrap up. I hope you enjoyed this letter. I've always wanted to write a letter to another passenger on a plane, and now I have, and it really was as fun as I thought it would be. If you would like to meet and hang out and bitch about our lives to each other, please feel free to call. Otherwise, I hope the holidays are kind to you.