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We meet so many people when we travel.\u00a0 There are things about these people that you might want to remember.\u00a0 How did they impact your vacation?\u00a0 How did they change you?\u00a0 How do you feel when you are around them?\u00a0 Just a few descriptive sentences can often keep these people memorialized among your pages.<\/p>\n
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<\/a>His brow was deeply furrowed, as he stepped into our compartment of the train. Like his gloomy mood, he was dressed in a black leather jacket, black trousers and a dirty white t-shirt.\u00a0 His hair was a similar dark color, but greasy, as if he hadn’t showered in a number of days. There was a faint odor of cheap cologne. The stubble of his beard and red rimmed eyes, gave an impression that perhaps he hadn’t slept in a while either.\u00a0 Knowing that all the seats in this compartment were assigned for our return journey down the mountain, I began to think that I should say something to this man.\u00a0 Perhaps I could encourage him to move to an unoccupied seat.\u00a0 His mood bordered on angry.\u00a0 Nothing about this person indicated that he wanted to communicate.\u00a0 His clothes seemed to hang loose around him, as he retreated inside of himself.\u00a0 Something about him frightened me, so I remained silent.\u00a0 The carriage finally filled with all of its passengers, the extra traveler now making it a very uncomfortable journey for the next hour.\u00a0 Even as I perched upon my husbands knees, to give the other elderly travelers a little more room, this man did not attempt to move to one of the vacant seats, in another car.\u00a0 We began our decent down the mountain, at about the same time, a brown paper bag appeared with what was likely a bottle of alcohol.\u00a0 As most of the passengers were trying to view the scenery out of the far side of the car, I kept my eye on the mysterious man as he swigged from his bottle.\u00a0 His forehead was pressed tight against his own window, twisting his body away from the other passengers, perhaps in an attempt to hide his addiction.\u00a0 As the alcohol began to work, an evil grin crept across his face.\u00a0 In that moment, I knew he was not fully present with the rest of us.\u00a0 I wondered if he was perhaps mentally ill, like my own father.\u00a0 Unpredictable was the thought that kept swirling through my mind as my body screamed caution.\u00a0 The train finally came to its destination, at the bottom of Mt. Snowden.\u00a0 As my husband went to retrieve the car from a nearby parking lot, I watched the mysterious man for a moment longer. The alcohol now fully working, he stumbled across the road, seemingly searching for a bus or someone meant to pick him up.\u00a0 I will never know his story.\u00a0 Had he just lost his job?\u00a0 Had he pulled a long shift on the mountain?\u00a0 What drove him to drink?\u00a0 Was he married, a father?\u00a0 He might be easily forgotten to many, but to me, he is part of a collection of interesting people that I come across as I travel, many of whom are just trying to get through another day, most of whom I will never know anything about.\u00a0 We are all connected in this big world of ours, so among my stories, he will live on.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"