Just a kid
So I'm flying to Albuquerque on Southwest today. Managed to snag a window seat, even though I was nearly the last person in boarding group B. I see this kid coming down the aisle. Kind of cute, actually. All that's left at this point are center seats and he chooses to sit next to me. I'm not terribly chatty on planes, so I don't strike up a conversation. I guess he's about 17, he's got a little start of a moustache but is too skinny to have really started filling out. In fact, let me note here how much more comfortable it is to sit next to a skinny kid compared to a beefy middle-aged guy. Wearing a cool black T-shirt with some obscure band name on it, but otherwise doesn't act cool at all. In fact, when I woke from a nap to find I'd missed the snack box cart he offered to share his with me. He also seemed chagrined that twice the flight attendant ran out of beverages after serving him, so they had to go back to get more before serving me. He very sweetly passed his water to me the second time. What a polite kid! He was pretty bored -- had nothing with him to read, was trying to do a word search with no pen. After about three hours I got up to stretch and found him a pen so he could do a Sudoku puzzle.
When we started to descend I pointed out the spectacular plateau and canyon terrain. He asked if I was from NM. I said no, I'm going to a wedding. How about you?
"I'm going to rehab." WHAT!
"Uh, good luck with that!" was all I could lamely say.
After thinking it over for a few minutes I decided I had to know more.
"How long will you be there?"
"A few months, until I'm 18. It kind of sucks."
Turns out he was in the hospital for five days in a plain white room with no windows, detoxing and recovering from what he called an "allergic reaction" to heroin. He's being escorted by two people to this ranch where he'll ride horses and finish his senior year in high school. He doesn't want to go -- hates the country, loves the city (which I gather is the DC Metro area, Northern Virginia). I ask why his parents weren't bringing him and he says they figured he'd probably try to run away from them. He plans to apply to colleges from the ranch, hopes to study engineering at George Mason or Virginia Tech because he doesn't want to be too far from home. He's got a 3.7 gpa but he's not sure they'll take him now. I told him, hey, you'll have great material for a college essay.
I've got a son only seven years younger than this heroin junkie. I don't know whether to act like a stern mom ("Better get your act together, now, son"), or assure him his parents only want what's best for him. They must be rich to be able to afford to ship him (and two escorts) to a rehab ranch in Arizona. I can only imagine what led a priveleged white kid to this situation. In any case, he doesn't seem irreversibly messed up. I told him I had a feeling it would all work out okay.
And then I wonder, did he make it all up? Does he like to make perfect strangers feel sorry for him? What does a kid like this need from someone like me? Home must not be that bad if he wants to stay nearby for college. What must his mother be feeling right now?
I'm glad we didn't start talking at the beginning of the four-hour flight. I'm afraid to ask too many questions. And afraid of the answers.Wish I'd started talking to him earlier.
When we started to descend I pointed out the spectacular plateau and canyon terrain. He asked if I was from NM. I said no, I'm going to a wedding. How about you?
"I'm going to rehab." WHAT!
"Uh, good luck with that!" was all I could lamely say.
After thinking it over for a few minutes I decided I had to know more.
"How long will you be there?"
"A few months, until I'm 18. It kind of sucks."
Turns out he was in the hospital for five days in a plain white room with no windows, detoxing and recovering from what he called an "allergic reaction" to heroin. He's being escorted by two people to this ranch where he'll ride horses and finish his senior year in high school. He doesn't want to go -- hates the country, loves the city (which I gather is the DC Metro area, Northern Virginia). I ask why his parents weren't bringing him and he says they figured he'd probably try to run away from them. He plans to apply to colleges from the ranch, hopes to study engineering at George Mason or Virginia Tech because he doesn't want to be too far from home. He's got a 3.7 gpa but he's not sure they'll take him now. I told him, hey, you'll have great material for a college essay.
I've got a son only seven years younger than this heroin junkie. I don't know whether to act like a stern mom ("Better get your act together, now, son"), or assure him his parents only want what's best for him. They must be rich to be able to afford to ship him (and two escorts) to a rehab ranch in Arizona. I can only imagine what led a priveleged white kid to this situation. In any case, he doesn't seem irreversibly messed up. I told him I had a feeling it would all work out okay.
And then I wonder, did he make it all up? Does he like to make perfect strangers feel sorry for him? What does a kid like this need from someone like me? Home must not be that bad if he wants to stay nearby for college. What must his mother be feeling right now?
I'm glad we didn't start talking at the beginning of the four-hour flight. I'm afraid to ask too many questions. And afraid of the answers.Wish I'd started talking to him earlier.