12:00 AM CDT on Thursday, May 24, 2007

She was a really pretty girl from a small place in Arkansas. Blonde, with clear eyes and a certain kindness. Her shoes were open-toe and her nails were pink and she had a tiny scar on her left thumb that I didn't ask about. She sat next to me on a plane from Nashville two days ago.

"Excuse me," I said after my seat belt buckle nailed her.

"No problem." Smile, and then quiet for a while.

She closed her eyes during takeoff. Her chest rose and fell, deep breaths, and I found myself imagining her prayer. I pulled out the paper and started reading. "Who do you think is going to win American Idol?" she asked, her voice startling me. I looked at the article in front of me.

"I gotta be honest, sweetheart. I am the worst American in the country, because I don't watch the show." And we were off and talking.

We talked about God, the Bible, growing up in the south, family, marriage, materialism, the little place in Arkansas, and how little she heard the phrase "I love you" while growing up. We talked all the way until the bump of the landing pitched us forward. She didn't pray during that.

"Do you think the world is always getting better?" one of us asked.

"Yes," said the other.

"So do I," said the first one, and that was the end.

I wanted to tell her about the staggering drunk that I talked to the night before who told me that his son just committed suicide. I wanted to tell her a lot, but I didn't. I didn't want to leave her with my hangover.

Sometimes it makes me crazy to think of all the stories passing all around us. I wish I could say that they keep me up at night, but my own story tends to do that.

Hear Gordon on "The Ticket" KTCK-AM (1310) weekdays from 5:30 to 10 a.m. Catch him on TV on The Gordon Keith Show, Thursdays at 10 p.m. on KFWD (Channel 52). E-mail him at gordon@gordon keith.com.