Love is (literally) in the Air, Part 1
Posted by Jess - 19/05/10 at 12:05 pm
Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/julia_manzerova/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0
I have been on approximately 7, 657 flights in my lifetime. Fine, so I have absolutely no idea how many flights I’ve been on in my lifetime (and you KNOW I suck at math) but I carried Silver Status on Delta for years and that was only one of the many airlines I was flying. That must mean something. So let’s just say that I’ve flown like, a bajillion times.
And that’s why I know, why I can look back now with a great sense of irony to my very first solo flight at the age of 14. I was flying to Orlando to stay with my grandmother. I felt very adult boarding a plane on my own, infused with fantasies of being seated next to Joey from New Kids on the Block (or at least a good lookalike) where he would admire and adore me, something that the boys in my own high school seemed uninclined to do, and then maybe I’d get to join him on stage at all his concerts. Is that asking so much?
I can look back on my younger self now with amused condescenion. I couldn’t fathom then the microscopically small odds of being seated on a plane near a cute boy aged 14 who was also traveling alone. What I could tell my young self now about plane companions! —- The odds of encountering a polite married businessman? It’s worth betting on. A mom or family with crying kids? Excellent chance. A couple headed for vacation? Annoyingly frequent. An UNmarried and unattractive businessman? Common enough.
But an attractive and available male, seated near you? You’re as likely to be struck by lightning.
The funny thing is? That’s exactly what happened the first time I flew alone.
I don’t remember his name. But he had the signature skaterboy sweep of blonde hair that fell in his face and melted my heart. He was in the row in front of me. We made eye contact as we boarded. Stole a few glances over the seatbacks during the flight. We smiled at each other at baggage claim. At 14, I guess he had no game. And in my Joey fantasies, he always came over and made witty dialogue. At no point was I required to take action. As a result, no one made a move and I left the airport confused as to why my fantasy sequence had gone off the tracks.
And that’s where the story should have ended, with a wistful stare, a sobering life lesson, and a new face to feature in my school girl daydreams.
But defying odds again, I stood the very next day in the breaking surf at Cocoa Beach when I had the impression that someone standing nearby by was staring at me.
You’ll never guess who it was.
What followed next was a shy conversation and an exchange of phone numbers. This was before the days of cell phones so, no there was no opportunity for me to “sext” him or send photos of myself in a training bra. Alas. Instead we chatted on our grandparents’ phones a few times, sent a few letters, and lamented our star-crossed status.
In all those years since that first solo flight, NEVER AGAIN have I encountered the chuba kabra (thanks Patti Stenger) —the attractive single man sharing my piece of the friendly skies.
That is until last week, nearly 20 years later, when lightning struck a second time. And THAT is the story I will tell you tomorrow.
