一“面”之緣

One of the 1）prerequisites of the international airline pilot’s trade is the opportunity to explore many of the world’s cities. That is， if one has recovered from the 2）aggregated hours of flight across assorted time zones. True rest is difficult to come by， so most of us inhabit a kind of 3）twilight zone in which we appear to be alive and well but underneath the persevering exterior remains a numbness that clings like paint. In this altered state of awareness we carry on 4）weary conversations that eventually make no sense， snore through a motion picture， fall into our food over dinner， exude loud speech and wilder actions in some sort of 5）compensatory behaviour for knowing we are not one hundred percent， perhaps not even fifty percent. This demeanor is part of us， and always will be until we hang up the hat and finally achieve a decent night’s sleep， over and again， and the business card says “retired”.

But the journey is fun. And that’s what we’re all about. And， this time， it was in 6）Osaka， Japan. I was on my own and decided to wander around an 7）enticing area I’d explored on other trips， anticipating a continued adventure begun on my last visit.

Some lovely hours were spent poking around， first in the antique shops then the model stores. I even added to my unbuilt model airplane kit collection， representing some 300 years of modeling ahead. Then， finding the narrow sidestreet that led to the noodle shop I had discovered previously， I embarked on an almost mystical adventure. The preceding month I had entered this tiny restaurant 8）on a whim， or I thought of it as by chance. A Japanese noodle shop， so called， is fairly typical， and if you have ever been in one you know what I mean. There are a few 9）diminutive tables and chairs but the focus is on a counter behind which the cook administers his trade directly in front of the customers， conjuring such delicacies as gayoza and a number of savory noodle and rice dishes. All this is accomplished against a 10）tapestry of cooking smoke， the crackle of hot oils， and occasionally some resounding vocal accompaniment.

On that particular day business was slow， and the owner/cook started a conversation in somewhat broken but understandable English. Upon hearing that I was an airline pilot， he nodded， smiled and said， “I have friend to meet you. I will call him now. Please talk with him. Maybe find what you both looking for.”

Now that was a bit 11）cryptic， as well as enticing. What WAS I looking for？ How would this man know？ Where would I be led？ Why？

Within a few moments a young fellow entered the restaurant. Pleasant， well in his twenties， so young to me. His English was also flawed but navigable. The restaurant owner said a few things to him in Japanese then left us on our own. “I very pleased to meet you”， he said. There was a great deal of bowing. Yes， it is the Japanese way of showing respect， but this bordered on reverence. Then he saw my big bag of airplane model kits. His eyes lit up and his smile was broad. I took them out for his inspection.

“Yes， 12）MD-11， Douglas Company， now Boeing Company. Scale this model 1/200” Well， he knew his airplanes and his models. “And 13）Lockheed Constellation”， he went on， fondling the other kit. “Most beautiful airplane”. He handed them back with another little bow and told me again， “I very pleased to meet you”. And I thought there were perhaps tears welling up in his eyes. He backed out， bowing again several times， and was gone into the night.

The owner returned， poured more tea and sat beside me. “He always want to be airline pilot. But，” and he patted his chest， “have bad heart. So no can do pilot. In my country， airline captain is man of high honor and position. He very much honor you talk with him.”

I felt a sadness for the young man who wanted to be a pilot， as passion 14）thwarted can lead to major grief and a life of torment. Was that what I saw in his tears？ “You please to come again，” the proprieter said.

Now I had returned， down the narrow sidestreet， back into the restaurant. We shook hands， I asked for the gayoza and noodle soup and a pot of green tea. “I call friend，” he said， more as a question.

“Yes， no problem，” I answered. And as before， the young fellow came along， again noticed my new bag of model kits， bowed， smiled and had green tea with me. And then he asked，“You please to come with me. I show you my home.”

My friend， the chef and man of mysterious ways， said， “Yes， you go！ Is very good thing.” His smile had the hint of an all-knowing wisdom. So we departed down the 15）myriad of narrow streets， turned many corners， then climbed steps to a small apartment-like residence atop some merchants’shops on the street level. As my friend turned on the light， I knew why I was there.

Not only were there airplane photos everywhere， but one entire wall held shelves of model airliners， floor to ceiling. Airplane books covered tables and chairs. And there was a delightfully simple yet effective work table upon which were several 16）airbrushes， model tools， jars of paint， reference material， and model kits.“I make all，” he said， gesturing to the wall of models. There were hundreds of them in this room！ And the quality was professional， contest grade， every single one！ My smile was ear-to-ear and so was his. I too had tears， but of joy. This man’s passion for flight had not been completely negated by a physical problem. Private grief had not led to some 17）pernicious finale. He had taken another path and now almost lived in his special world of flight！

“I have a room much like this，” I said. “We are very much the same.”

“Yes，” he said， bowing， “We same.”

And there amongst all the 18）sum and substance of my life， devotion to flight， we shared a feeling of being something like “universal man”， transcending space， time， geography， and cultural boundaries. He even gave me some extremely helpful tips on model airplane building.

I barely caught the last train back to the hotel and sat alone in the night， pondering this great experience. And I realized that it is the journey that really matters， not the reaching “there”， and I am not sure where “there” really is anyway. The business of an airline pilot has its frustrations and sorrows， but it also offers some unique opportunities. For it allows me walks down narrow streets in Singapore， or Penang， Bangkok， or Shanghai—and a special sidestreet in Osaka.

And in those places to discover that we have a lot of friends whom we simply have yet to meet. And that is truly something special.

身為國際航線飛行員的先決條件之一是有機會去探索這個世界的許多城市。前提是你能從跨越各種時區長達數小時的漫長飛行中恢復過來。飛行之后很難真正地休息，因此我們之中大多數人都生活在某種模糊狀態中，看起來生龍活虎的，但在精神奕奕的外表下，如顏料般附著一層麻木。在這種非正常意識狀態下，我們繼續著最后變得毫無意義的疲倦對話，對著電影打呼嚕，晚餐時渾然入睡，用大聲說話和舉止狂野來達到某種補償行為，只因知道自己并非百分百清醒，或者甚至不到百分之五十。這種舉止成為了我們的一部分，通常會持續直至我們掛起帽子，終于在某一晚能夠好好睡上一覺，循環往復，直到名片印上“已退休”。

但旅行很有趣。這也是我們全都趨之若鶩的原因。而這次的目的地是日本的大阪市。我獨自前往，并決定去一個迷人的區域走走，在其他多次旅程中我曾經探索過那里，并期待著能夠繼續上一次的冒險之旅。

我四處閑逛，度過幾小時美麗時光，先是在一些古玩店，接著是一些模型店里。我甚至還為自己尚未收集完的模型飛機套裝增添了一些新藏品，它們展現了約三百多年前的模型樣式。然后我又找到了那條狹窄的小巷，通往我之前發現的那家面店，于是我開始了一場近乎神秘的冒險。上個月我曾一時心血來潮進入過這家小餐館，或者說我認為是一種運氣。這是一家日本面店，據稱，店面相當典型，如果你曾經去過某一家的話，你就知道我說的是什么意思。……