John settled into his seat on the plane from Moscow to New York, letting out a sigh of relief. His first business trip to Russia had been a whirlwind.
He thought things went well and that he was well-received, but it was difficult to tell.
The Russian counterparts he had met with seemed very formal and business-like.
Establishing rapport had been a challenge. His charm, good humor, and backslapping informal style, which had always served him well, seemed to fall flat.
Despite this, his American optimism kicked in, hoping his trip to Moscow wasn’t in vain.
Next to him, a stern-looking man took his seat, not hostile, just a bit on the quiet side. John smiled brightly. “How are you?”
The man glanced at him, a faint smile breaking through his serious demeanor. “Fine, thank you.”
As they buckled their seat belts, John extended his hand. “Hi, I’m John.”
The man hesitated, then shook John’s hand. “I’m Ivan.”
“Nice to meet you, Ivan,” John continued. “What do you do?”
Ivan’s brow furrowed slightly. He found the question strangely personal but answered reluctantly, “I’m a businessman.”
“Oh, me too! I’m a sales representative for a food processing equipment company. What kind of business are you in?” John asked eagerly.
Ivan’s puzzled look deepened, but he answered, “I import auto parts.”
“Oh, interesting! Have you been in the business long?” John pressed on.
“About ten years,” Ivan replied, still unsure about this overly friendly stranger.
“Wow, that’s impressive.” John replied in rapid fire.
“I’ve been with my company for about five years. It’s a great job; I get to travel a lot. Is this your first trip to the US?” John asked, his enthusiasm undeterred.
Ivan simply nodded, finding this conversation a little peculiar, he felt like he was being interrogated by a friendly 10-year-old.
“Awe, you’ll love it. Americans are pretty friendly, you’ll see. So, where are you from originally?” John’s questions kept coming.
“Moscow,” Ivan answered, still finding the interaction strange.
“Do you have family back in Moscow?” John asked, steering the conversation deeper.
“Yes, a wife and two children,” Ivan said, beginning to open up a little, but still not asking John any questions.
“Yep, married with one kid. Family is everything, right? How old are your kids?” John’s questions seemed endless.
“Eight and twelve,” Ivan replied, starting to warm up to the relentless friendliness.
As the flight attendants began serving drinks, John ordered a whiskey and encouraged Ivan to do the same.
The drinks loosened the conversation, and soon, they were sharing stories about their lives, their work, and their families.
“This trip is a big deal for me,” Ivan admitted, swirling the ice in his glass. “Spending most of my life in the Soviet Union and now Russia, I never thought I’d see America.”
John nodded, understanding the significance. “It’s a big step. But you’ll find the people are pretty nice. We can be a bit chatty, though, as you’ve probably noticed,” he added with a grin.
By the time the plane began its descent into JFK Airport, John and Ivan were talking like old friends.
Ivan confided in John things he wouldn’t typically share with a stranger.
There was something about John’s friendliness that was disarming, making Ivan feel comfortable and understood.
As the plane landed and passengers began gathering their belongings, Ivan turned to John, ready to exchange contact information. Thinking how lucky he was to have met a new friend, an American, on his first trip to the US.
But before he could speak, John abruptly got up from his seat to get his carry-on bag from the overhead compartment.
John smiled warmly and held out his hand. “Well, Ivan, it was great meeting you. I hope you have a fantastic stay in New York. Take care.”
With that, John grabbed his bag and walked down the aisle. Ivan sat back, a little stunned, watching his new friend disappear into the crowd.
A sense of emptiness and perplexity washed over him.
He had shared so much, opened up in ways he never thought he would to a stranger, only to be left with a polite goodbye and no way to stay in touch.
As Ivan slowly gathered his belongings, he couldn’t shake the feeling of confusion.
How could someone be so friendly, so engaging, and then just walk away as if it meant nothing?
Ivan pondered this as he moved through the bustling airport, the vibrant energy of New York doing little to lift his spirits.
He had just learned his first lesson about Americans: they are like peaches soft, sweet, and easy to talk to on the outside, but with a hard core on the inside.
In contrast, Eastern Europeans are more like coconuts, difficult to open but offering a deeper, more meaningful connection once you do.
Ivan couldn’t shake the lingering emptiness from the encounter though, a poignant reminder that cultural differences often run deeper than a friendly conversation on a long flight.