Yesterday I walked past a book called: How to Look Like a Dancer (Without Being One) at Barnes and Noble and I started to giggle at a strange memory it triggered. It’s one I’ve filed under Weird Comments, Looks or Questions I Get When Traveling With a Guitar. And it reminded me again that people really really do say the strangest things.

I was running toward my gate in the Denver airport, late for a connecting flight home. Running is always a feat when I’ve got a guitar on my back and a laptop bag slung over my shoulder. I was in pain, I was sweating, and I was close to an all out panic attack, but I made it to my gate and onto my flight.

I squeezed my way down the aisle looking for overhead space big enough to fit my guitar and got the typical curious stares (is she someone famous?) and skeptical looks (where’s she gonna put THAT thing?) that I’m used to. I’m also used to, Hey, you gonna play us a song on that thing, or what? Hahaha. I get that one a lot. I sometimes wonder if people think they are the first ones who’ve ever thought to ask it. (Oh, the things I want to retort when I’m tired and cranky!) Anyway, I found a small spot, nestled the guitar into it and began the search for a seat.

The one remaining middle seat was next to an older, distinguished-looking Japanese businessman in a pin-striped suit, glasses and neatly combed silver hair. He got up to let me in, I collapsed into my seat and the rest of the flight was uneventful. I didn’t speak to the woman reading on my left, nor to the Japanese gentleman on my right, whose primary activity during the entire flight was working numbers on some spreadsheet labyrinth on his laptop. It made my head hurt to look at it.

We landed. When it was our turn, my polite, reserved neighbor stood to let me out and was right behind me in the slow crawl down the aisle toward the exit. I reached up and extricated my guitar from the overhead bin and as I did I heard him say quietly, Oh, you play guitah? (he had a heavy Japanese accent) Yes, I answered. To which he made the comment, Oh, I thought you were dancah. A DANCER?! I thought to myself, and wanted to turn right around and say, Whatever gave you THAT idea?? But I kept walking, eyes forward, feeling a little creeped out.

I thought about that bizarre comment in my head for several days, and for the life of me could not arrive at a conclusion that made any sense. So I stopped thinking about it. Until I saw this book!!

Moral of the story? Maybe try not to stare too hard or make strange, random observations out loud when you encounter traveling musicians. We get a lot of that.