Man de la Larbert

I have had many head slap moments in my life... too many to mention here but for some reason one in particular appeared quite vividly today. It's odd really, as I haven't thought about this in some time but apparently the Universe would like to humble me and so I must write.

Glasgow Scotland, September 2012
I spent a lovely couple of weeks exploring Scotland with my sister. We went all over, from Iona, Culloden, the Orkneys, and Edinburgh. I won't mention my embarrassing driving experiences nor how I said I was Canadian to get less of a sourpuss face from the island natives. But I will mention the time I went to see Bannockburn.

If you know your Scottish history you'll know of the very important battle that occurred 700 years ago for Scottish independence. So after my sister took off for the States I headed up to Stirling and then over to the bus for Bannockburn. Little did I know that this battlefield was not *gasp* preserved as a memorial site but instead is a pasture with a plaque. So I sat there looking for some obvious monument markers when a lovely lady sat next to me.

She jabbered on cheerily and even with my 5 years of Scots Gaelic lessons I could not discern the Broad Scots she was speaking in. Here are snippets that I understood: icebox, American, dance, soldier, and icebox again. Apparently an icebox was the star of the story and I feel a bit remiss that I didn't get more of the story. I had lost all sense of direction by this point and then she said something about how she wished she were going to Glasgow because we'd have a grand old time. Wait-- GLASGOW??!

DUCK. Now I have to backtrack a third of the way back up the Country and I still haven't seen Bannockburn. Now I'm irritated at myself and-fantastic! I'm lost. I just want to get to my hotel and eat a nice meal. Okay so the train station is nowhere in sight so I'm feeling defeated. Just then I see an attractive guy. I approach him and he offers to walk me to the station. Awesome. 

We walk along exchanging stories. He works in the financial sector and is originally from Larbert just south of Stirling. He walked out of his way to deliver me, even though his train station was along the way. He waited for my train and in that pinnacle moment I shook his hand and thanked him. What a dumbass move on my part, if I may say so. I should have offered to buy him dinner, a drink, tuck him into my hotel bed- SOMETHING. I never even got his name. And so I shook his nameless hand. Forehead slap. 

So why am I thinking of him now??  That I cannot tell you but I can say that missed opportunities are just that: missed opportunities. Even if you don't think of something for years when it creeps up on you, there must be some reason for it. So I'm putting this out into the Universe out that if this gentleman from Larbert comes across this, THANK YOU. I was having a crappy day and you made it a lovely memory. I even checked out your town and the old Parish there per your suggestion. And if we shall ever meet again, dinner is on me.