A Random Act

An AI generated image

This incident happened many years ago. Why remember it now—after all these years? I don’t really know. It surfaced suddenly as I was walking through Munich airport, on my way to Tangier via Madrid.

Perhaps a voice triggered it. Perhaps the atmosphere of an airport did. I’m not sure. But the memory came back vividly.

This happened at an airport—one I can’t quite remember. Possibly in Germany. When I say many years ago, I mean the BC era: Before Cell phones.

A Phone Call to Be Made

Back then, making an international phone call meant hunting for a public telephone booth and using what were called calling cards. These cards were sold in 24×7 tobacco shops across Germany and much of Europe—this was before the Schengen Treaty, when borders were sealed and every country had its own currency.

Armed with my calling card, I approached a phone booth already in use. The man inside seemed deeply engaged in conversation. Expecting it to end soon, I sat down on one of the nearby chairs to wait.

The Man

He was speaking rapidly in a language I didn’t understand. Even without hearing the words, it was clear he was distressed. His agitation was visible, almost palpable.

Emotion — The Universal Language

His voice rose and fell unevenly, words tumbling out incoherently. His face was turned away, so I couldn’t see his expression, but the emotion carried through his voice. As the minutes passed, I grew irritated. It felt inconsiderate—he hadn’t even checked if someone was waiting.

The Truth

After what felt like a long time, he abruptly hung up, turned around, and seemed to suddenly realize where he was. He apologized profusely and stepped aside.

That’s when I noticed his face—puffed up, strained, as if holding back something overwhelming. Something was clearly wrong.

Not out of curiosity, but out of simple human instinct, I asked if everything was okay and whether he needed any help. I hesitated—this was the Western world, where privacy is sacred—but the question came out spontaneously.

The Meltdown

He immediately broke down.

He started sobbing uncontrollably. I was shocked, confused, unsure how to react. Instinct took over. I opened my arms, and he collapsed into them. I held him.

It was a deeply human moment—two strangers in a foreign land, connected by raw emotion. He continued to sob, speaking in his language, words I couldn’t understand, but the pain needed no translation.

The Recovery

After a minute or so, he pulled himself together, suddenly aware that he was crying on the shoulder of a complete stranger. Ashamed, he apologized again. Realizing I was a foreigner, he switched to English.

The Explanation

He told me he had just lost a very close friend. The shock was still fresh. He was desperately trying to understand what had happened and why. He hadn’t yet come to terms with the loss.

Thanks and Parting

He thanked me repeatedly—for listening, for holding him, for being there. Then, perhaps out of gratitude, or perhaps embarrassment, he excused himself and walked away.

That was the last I ever saw of him. 

We didn’t exchange names or contact details.

We met as strangers, connected briefly as close friends, and departed as strangers again.

Have you ever experienced such a strange, random act of human connection?