My own private Jeffrey

     I remember a Bill Cosby comedy routine of many years ago about a flight he endured with a two-year old named Jeffrey.  Everyone knew Jeffrey’s name by the end of the flight because they had heard his mother say it so often-“Jeffrey, sit still!”  “Jeffrey, get up!”  “Jeffrey, don’t do that!”  “Jeffrey, be quiet!”  “JEFFREY!”  It’s the nightmare flight everyone endures sooner or later if they travel frequently.
     My Jeffrey was 13 and named Seth.  We met on the Dallas-to-San Diego leg of our trip west, a leg that began with our not getting upgraded to first class as we had hoped and finding that I was not the only person who had a ticket for my seat.  Dave to the rescue!  We got that fiasco handled and had just settled into our seats when young Seth appeared.
     He was carrying a backpack and had a plastic card holder around his neck, the badge and emblem of the child displaced by divorce.  It is shocking to me how many children are put on flights to fulfill their parent’s custody rights, and many of them a lot younger than Seth, who introduced himself and took his seat by the window.  
He immediately began to talk, revealing an astounding ignorance of a wide range of topics. He was a handsome boy with dark, dark eyes and long, thick dark lashes and a flawless complexion.  There was the suggestion of a mustache on his upper lip, which surprised me when he told me his age.  He was all legs and arms, knees and elbows, as thin as a rail with long, tapered fingers that were beautifully maintained.
He was also hyper.  He couldn’t seem to sit still, or to remain focused on anything- except his thirst- for more than 30 seconds.  He showed an interest in the book Dave was reading and the anagram puzzles I was solving.  I showed him how to access the tray, and he immediately was captivated by the cleverness of the engineering.  He then produced a nerf ball and challenged me to a game, the division of the tray serving as a net.  After trouncing me, he lost interest, and was off and talking again, obsessing for the next 30 minutes about his thirst.
I learned a lot about him.  He lives in San Diego with his mother, but his dad lives in Arkansas and he was returning from a mandated three week visit.  He talked about his little 5 year-old sister whom he does not get to live with and how much he loves her.  In two years, he will be old enough to choose whether or not he goes to see his father, and while his relationship with his dad is rocky, he will probably keep going so he can see his sister.  
He talked about his father’s lack of success in marriage and mentioned that marriage number three seems to be coming to a close. He talked about his school, his girlfriend, his role as school-yard counselor/therapist, his various career plans… and while he talked, he squirmed, rang for the attendant, and generated enough nervous energy to power a city.
He asked me if I was a Christian, and when I said yes, he said he knew it, he could tell just by looking at me.  I asked if he could tell I am Episcopalian just by looking at me, but he didn’t get it.  He assumed I was retired and yet was shocked when I told him I was born in 1949.  He didn’t do the math, but I am sure he thought me as old as Methuselah.  He bombarded me with questions: were there cars when I was a kid?  Phones?  Airplanes?   I told him I was 20 when men first walked on the moon and he was actually speechless for several seconds.  
After obsessing (verbally) about being thirsty, he was relieved when the attendant showed up with drinks.  He downed his first Sprite in about 15 seconds.  At last!  His thirst was slaked!  Then he started eating beef jerky.  A second Sprite… a glass of water…  Whenever the attendant returned, he bombarded HER with questions- how did she know who had buzzed?  What if more than one person buzzed at the same time?
I gave him my PDA so that he could play Solitaire and he enjoyed that for about half an hour.  About an hour out from San Diego, he decided to take a nap, but he couldn’t get comfortable.  He tried to curl his elongated body into the seat, which of course was impossible, and tossed and turned.  I offered him my shoulder and he rested his head on it for a minute or to, but then the tossing and turning began anew.  Shortly before landing, he did, in fact, doze off, but not before I had been elbowed and kneed into submission.
When we landed, Seth had to stay behind to be escorted off the plane by the attendant and so we said our good-byes. I told him I was pleased to have met him, and meant it.   I am old enough to be his grandmother and yet we almost immediately got along and were able to communicate.  There is something lovely that happens when adolescence meets menopause - as long as they are not related or sharing the same household.  
Seth was a very sweet boy, and he made me laugh.  I enjoyed his company, but his energy absolutely exhausted me.  Thirteen was never designed to be confined in small spaces for prolonged periods of time.  Especially not crammed into that small space with fifty-six.