Jack
It’s the 10.30 pm from LAX to Ghainzghou and we are already in descent when, because he’s just drawn in a sketch book and then put it away in his bag, I turn to my right and start talking to the guy next to me in seat 44 E.
‘You’re an artist?’ I ask him, and he tells me yes, he is an artist and I tell him that I too am and artist and then I ask him what kind of art he does.
‘I’m an illustrator,’ he tells me, ‘and I’ve just gone freelance,’
‘Nice,’ I say and then he asks me what kind of art I do.
‘Drawing,’ I tell him, ‘and tattoo,’
He nods and says ‘uh-huh’ and then he tells me he got sick of working for other people, designing dog clothes, and that before he really gets stuck into freelance he’s taking a break in Thailand.
‘Before I start up freelance I am taking 9 days, or like, 2 weeks in Thailand,’ he tells me.
But I’m still thinking about the dog clothes he designs and so I tell him my thoughts.
‘Dog clothes?’ I say, ‘All I can think of would be Paris Hilton when I think of dog clothes.’
‘Yeh,’ he says, laughing.
Then I ask him if I could have his contact details so I can have a look online at what he does, and I hand him over the sketch book that I am traveling with and he writes his name, Jack, and his contact details underneath.
Then we discuss the airline we are flying with, China Southern, and I tell him it has been way better than I thought it would be.
‘I thought it would be one of those airlines with mean stewards and cheap wings that fall off midair, and seats no one over 150 pounds could squeeze into,’ I say, ‘but it’s super roomy and the food has been really good.’
Jack the freelance illustrator laughs and says ‘yeh’ and then tells me that the friend he is travelling with upgraded because he’s a big guy and because the plane was full of Chinese people.
‘He goes Jack, Dude,’ Jack, tells me, ‘look at this place, I’m the only white guy on it. I’m upgrading’, so he did.’
‘It would stand to reason,’ I say, laughing, ‘that a plane from a company call China Southern destined for China would have a fair amount of Chinese people onboard.’
Jack laughs and says yes.
Then Jack asks me some questions about Australia and I tell him that it has been a very long time since I have lived there and that they currently have a right wing government that are less than kind to the gay, the refugee, the poor and the Aboriginal.
And then for a while we discuss what Australians are like, what Americans are like, what the world thinks we’re like, about the palm trees in Santa Monica and how unappealing the promenade at Venice, CA, is.
And then I say to Jack, who is wearing a big dark blue floppy wind cheater with Los Angeles writ on it in white lettering, and a pair of Adidas three-stripe track pants, ‘I hope you’re not a Republican, because these bastards running Australia are even worse than Cheney and Romney and thick-head racists and gun-worshippers.’
Jack laughs and tells me that no, he is not a Republican.
And then Jack and I talk about guns and Republicans for a while until he asks me about the dangerous things in Australia.
‘You’ve got like, deadly insects and stuff out there, right?’ he asks me, ‘like kangaroos that fight each other.’
I tell Jack, yes, we have many deadly things but no more deadly than things in the US.
‘I was in Louisiana where alligators crawl around loose in rivers and in swamps and people were carrying on about deadly spiders,’ I say, ‘and completely ignoring that about 18,000 people a year get killed by each other with guns.’
Jack laughs.
And then Jack gets serious.
‘You know,’ he says, ‘even if the second amendment had been changed, guns were still going to come in.’
And then he tells me he used to be in a gang, and that he had been shot.
‘I was shot in the shoulder,’ he tells me, and he reaches up with his left hand and wraps it around his chest to touch his right shoulder, ‘and I still have a bullet on this other side.’
He then reaches up and touches his left shoulder with his left hand.
‘Wow,’ I say, so you were in a gang.’
‘Yes,’ Jack tells me, ‘it was rough where I grew up but a teacher saw my drawings and thought it was a way out so I got a scholarship and went to art school.’
‘I am smiling at Jack now and tell him that’s great, that he got out.
‘Yeh,’ he says, ‘I still live in the area but it’s a lot more cleaned up now, not so rough,’
Then I ask him if he saw Obama’s State of the Union Address, and he tells me that while he usually listens to it, he hadn’t heard it this time.
‘Me and my friend Anna, who is Swedish, we were listening to it,’ I tell him, ‘and both of us agreed that it made us fall in love with America a little bit more.’
‘Yeh,’ Jack tells me, ‘It has its problems, but it’s a hard place not to love.’
I nod my head and say yes, and then until the plane lands we sit there talking about the US, guns, Australia, art, shooting, LA neighbourhoods, and various other things, until people start to get up and I say – ‘Fuck, the futility of everyone jumping up to get their bags as soon as the plane puts on the brakes.’
Jack laughs and says yeh.
Then we sit there again, not saying anything, until people start to pass in the aisle and Jack leans down and picks up the bag that has his sketch book in it and holds it in his lap, his arms wrapped around it as if it’s a calm child.
And then it’s time for us to stand up and I say – ‘I’m in no rush for my connecting flight. I’m just going to sit here and be last.’
And Jack stands up and holds out his hand to me for shaking.
’It’s good to talk to you,’ he says, ‘and when you come to LA, if there’s anything you need, let me know. I’ll do what I can to help you out.’
I smile at him and take his hand and tell him thank you.
And I tell him that those kinds of offers come from most Americans I meet.
And that’s why I love the USA.
And that I will be in touch.