It’s National Hug Day.
Yeah, I don’t know where this crap comes from either. I think there’s some dude, with a really long beard, sitting on his couch, giggling to himself as he eats Ho Hos and declares each and every day with a “National” title.
What is National Hug Day? It’s a wonderful day to hug the ones you love. It’s a wonderful day to hug the ones you don’t love. It’s a wonderful day to get in trouble for sexually harassing your office colleagues, and blame your excessive spreading of love on a day declared by God knows who.
I love hugs. Who doesn’t love hugs? Sometimes I really want to hug strangers who look like they’re lost in a hell of a day. As a matter of fact, once upon a time I did hug a stranger…after a flight. This was due to the fact that we shared a row with the stank-smelliest Frenchman to ever come out of a country that is just as famous for its funk as it is for its wine, cheese and Tour Eiffel. I was in the window seat, and there was a poor, unsuspecting young woman on the aisle.
This smelly dude comes strutting down the center aisle toward the back of the plane, the paint peeling on the outside of the jet as he progressed toward the rear of the aircraft. He squeezed into the center seat, and I could see his flight itinerary in hand–I could only see it for a moment as my eyes began to flood with tears from the burning sensation radiating from his personage. Dude had come from Paris the day prior. This leg was from Chicago to LAX. As he adjusted into place, the girl and I locked eyes.
There have been few times in my life that I have actually been able to see someone offer a fearful prayer with their eyes. This was one of them.
I told myself, “Just cover up with your jacket, put it over your head and go to sleep,” but I couldn’t. I became paranoid about what dreams might come while breathing in what could only be reminiscent to the scent of the hot ashes of hell. I feared that I would never awaken from a toxic slumber. I suffered through it. Somehow I devised a way to breathe through my ears. I’ve always taken pride in my ability to adapt.
As we touched down, I felt a thousand pounds lifted from my shoulders. As we exited the plane, dude disappeared from view. As the gal came off the jetway, we looked to one another, and before ever speaking a word, we embraced in a hug of survival. Sometimes a hug is just necessary to convey the feelings that words can’t express.
Happy National Hug Day, everyone!