The other day flying back from Nashville, the man in the seat next to me was the only person to get on board with his roller bag. The rest of us checked them at the jetway. It didn’t bother me that he brought it on; it just surprised me that he was able to get it to fit in the overhead bin on the regional jet. I knew from that observation I was meant to speak with him. What I didn’t know yet was why.

We introduced ourselves, talked about where we live (our flight destination), why he was eating raw vegetables and sliced turkey he purchased at Publix (he has 5 more pounds to lose before he gets married). We talked about marriage and children, and about buying homes. We talked about friends and investments. It was all great conversation, but I knew this wasn’t the purpose of our meeting each other that day.

Talk turned to what we do for a living. He owns an airline in Nashville. Viola! I have a client who is as enamored with the airline industry as my seat mate. We agreed the next time we’re all in Nashville to have dinner together. And I got an invitation to see the July 4th fireworks from his hanger.

There’s always a reason we meet who we meet. Sometimes it’s someone else’s puzzle piece. Sometimes it’s our own. Usually it’s both. Part of the fun of the conversation is waiting for it.