About a week ago I boarded a plane in frigid Spokane, Washington. Final destination: Auburn, Alabama. I was heading down south to visit a friend for Thanksgiving. While sitting in Seat F, Row 10, I looked out on the wing at the slush that had accumulated from the light 4 AM snow. An old woman sat next to me, and next to her, a younger man with a shaved head and multiple piercings. We sat in silence for a while until I took my camera out to take some pictures out of the tiny window. The old lady mentioned that it looked like a nice camera, and I nodded. I didn't have much to say, it was early. We made small talk on the flight to Denver, talking about Christmas cards and other holiday topics. Once we landed, we went our separate ways.

On the flight from Denver to Atlanta, I didn't say or do much. I had a pretty good Wasabi Chicken Sandwich and took a nap.

Once in Atlanta, I began the long walk to the shuttle area. I arrived at where I needed to be at about 3:30. I still had 3 hours until my shuttle would come to pick me up. I sat down on a cold concrete bench and fiddled with my phone and backpack to pass the time.

I'd occasionally look up and meet eyes with various Southern people who would ask in a thick accent "Whuryagoin'?" or "Wher ya headed ta?" None of their shuttles were mine, so I'd just mumble and say "Auburn" which would usually make them walk away.

Around 4:00, another man started walking towards me. I looked at him, but he was fumbling through his satchel-looking bag so he didn't see me. He sat awkwardly down on the edge of the bench, facing away from me. He pulled out a folder filled with papers and a passport and began filing through them. He apparently became uncomfortable with his seating position, because he turned around so his back was turned to me, on the opposite end of the bench. I started to play around with my phone again. After about 10 minutes he shifted around to my side of the bench and in one of the thickest Irish accents I had ever heard, asked me something that sounded like "Excuse me, could you help me real quick?"

I turned and looked at him and he was holding what looked like a $10 cell phone in his hand. I said sure, and he continued:

"I can't get any reception on this bloody thing and I was wondering if you could message my friend and let him know I'm here."

"Sure, what's the number?"

He rattled the number off quickly and I'm pretty sure I only heard a seven and a four. He then continued by telling me the message he wanted me to send. I understood none of what he said.

"Hold on, what's the number again?" He held out his phone and I copied the number down. He attempted to relay his message to me again but I still couldn't understand it.

"Here, I'll let you type it." I handed him my iPhone and he looked at it like I had shown him an alien spaceship controller. I mentioned you only had to type by touching the screen and he fiddled with it until he had finished his message.

"Davy Fallon here now in ATL waiting for shutle"

I mentioned that he had a passport and asked if he had been to America before. He shook his head and said "Nope."

"Well let me be the first to welcome you. Hope it treats you well."

"Thank ya" he replied. My phone rang back with a reply message that said "Cool. let me know when u arrive"

I showed it to him and he thanked me. About 15 minutes later his shuttle to Chattanooga arrived and he said goodbye and left.

It didn't even occur to me at the time, but I could have asked for a picture. As a photographer, I naturally carry a camera with me at every opportunity. An eccentric stranger with a good story always makes for a great photograph. For some reason, I didn't even make the leap in thought that I could have asked him for a quick portrait before he left.

I really regret that, because it was one of my few encounters with a stranger and a story, and I failed to capture it.