|
Joe McLean knows there's a war on. He knows there are people suffering all over the world. He knows his problem is tiny in comparison.
But Joe McLean also knows what it feels like to look at someone and, within a moment, think: "She could be the one."
That happened to McLean just after Thanksgiving. Maybe it was just a friendly smile. Maybe she's married. Maybe she'd think he was out of his mind. But, ever since the two smiled at each other, then said hello, he can't get her out of his mind.
And he just wants to find her and ask her if she feels the same way.
McLean, 36, grew up in tiny Mansfield, Ark., which is about 30 miles from Fort Smith, which is about 2 1/2 hours from Little Rock. His mother died when he was 7, and his dad is married for the fourth time. McLean thinks that may be the reason why he and younger brother Nathan are still single.
He grew up skiing and playing piano, marching in the Razorback band and attending a Baptist church. He's dated many women, some for long stretches. He has a chemical engineering degree and works for a small specialty chemical company.
McLean spent Thanksgiving with Nathan, an Army chaplain, in Fort Drum, N.Y., a weekend that included skiing at Lake Placid. He headed home on Nov. 29, anxious to get back to work.
His Northwest flight was supposed to leave from Hancock International Airport in Syracuse, N.Y., around 12:30 p.m. But the flight was abruptly canceled and passengers were asked to make other arrangements. Waiting to get reticketed at the gate, he spotted a female passenger waiting in line to board a flight for Minneapolis.
"I happened to notice her a couple of times," he said. "I smiled. She smiled. Then she came up to the gate and asked a question about her flight." She turned to him and said hello. He said hello. He felt an instant reaction. But he didn't know if she felt it, too.
He got re-ticketed and rushed to the main terminal to claim his luggage. "I was in a hurry. I wanted to get home that day. But halfway to the terminal, I was already kicking myself."
He got his luggage, then started through security again. They were patting down everybody. Finally free, he ran back to the gate.
Of course, her plane was gone. Otherwise, you wouldn't be reading this. The flight attendants were gone, too. There was nobody for Joe to talk to.
He sat in the airport for five hours waiting for his flight, "wishing I could turn back time and get a second chance to meet her."
He decided to do something he'd never done. He sent an e-mail to Northwest. "I felt that surely Northwest would forward my e-mail to people on the plane." But he got a quick reply from a spokesman that, for security reasons and to protect passengers' confidentiality, Northwest couldn't do that.
He wrote again. "I told him, 'You don't understand. I know you can't just give me their e-mail address, but can't you just forward the information to the people on that flight, and she can decide if she wants to respond or not?"
Again, no, they really couldn't. "It seemed like a blanket response, almost like they didn't even read my e-mail."
On to Plan B: McLean went on the Minneapolis Star Tribune's Web site and found the name Kate Parry, Star Tribune Reader Representative.
In the subject line, he wrote: "You're my last hope." His e-mail began: "Dear Kate: My name is Joe, and I know this is crazy (and pathetic) ... but I'm writing to ask your help in finding a girl that I met briefly last week in an airport in Syracuse, N.Y., shortly before she flew on to Minneapolis. She was a passenger on Northwest flight 5623 that left at 2:19 p.m.
Parry found Joe's note refreshing. So she passed it along, without any promises.
Not everyone believes in love at first sight, of course, and that view undoubtedly save humans plenty of embarrassment and heartache.
Many wise editors in my newsroom wondered if, at best, we were launching a dating service with this story or, worse, putting this woman in danger.
The hopelessly romantic relationships reporter (who, after 20 years of marriage, has taken arguing over how to load the dishwasher to a fine art) hopes that it does exist.
But, just in case, we checked available national databases to detect if McLean has a criminal record. He doesn't, unless you think it's a criminal act to have a fishing license. A confidential call to one of his bosses revealed that he's "one of the best we've got, a great guy."
McLean doesn't remember much about the woman at the airport. She was thin and about his height -- 5-feet-7 or 5-feet-8. She had long, straight brown hair halfway down her back. He thinks her eyes are brown. He guesses she's in her mid 20s to early 30s. "And she had this really great smile."
McLean was wearing blue jeans and a button-down red shirt. And he was carrying something a little unusual for a guy to have that will not be revealed here, so that only she will be able to identify it, if she chooses.
It's been several weeks. McLean knows it's a long shot. But, "I've got a feeling about her that I haven't had in a long time."
At Thanksgiving, Joe and Nathan had a deep talk about what they wanted from life. Joe, being older, encouraged Nathan, who might go to Iraq next year, to seize the moment. If Nathan thought, even in a momentary chance encounter, that he might have found that girl, then Nathan should pursue her with everything he's worth and see where it leads.
"Then, of course, two days later, it happens to me," Joe said. "I was just like, 'Oh, man.'æ"
|
