Message in a Bottle
So, I was on a flight to Atlanta earlier this year and met a girl named Nell from Milwaukee. She was fantastic. We talked for just the last 20 minutes of the flight, but I think I was in love with her… Hang on, let me back up.
It was one of those impossible things… not gonna happen. She was very pretty and put together — red coat, simple medium-length hair that highlighted her face, and taller than average. I usually don’t talk to people on planes, regardless of how attractive they are. It’s time I use to decompress, listen to music/podcasts, and read usually. BUT, she was listening to the Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe. Flying into the Bible belt, you usually don’t see that. In fact, some folks would be discretely covering up their screen. She had it sitting in her lap tilted towards me as if she hoped I would see it. She alternated between her iPhone and reading “Out Stealing Horses” by Per Petterson. Earlier, I swear as if it was the most subtle flirt ever, she was listening to “This Charming Man” by The Smiths. Those were the only two things I noticed on her screen the entire flight. My ego would not let me presume that it was anything to do with me until the next day. Hey, shut up! We had a connection.
As the plane started it’s final approach and she removed her headphones, I removed mine and remarked, “Great podcast.” She said, “Oh…? Yeah. It is. Do you listen to it?”, or something similar. So, we started talking and she was on her way to England to get her remaining stuff from when she had lived there a year or so ago. She had trained in Europe as a pastry chef after quitting corporate America. I was SO infatuated and intrigued. I totally wanted her. She was flying an unconventional route from Philadelphia through Atlanta, was spending the night at the Country Inn and Suites, and was out first thing in the morning (uh, single girl traveling alone… why would you tell me that??). During our interaction, we had a couple of those moments where it’s really nothing (how could it be anything?) because it’s WAY too soon, but nevertheless, there is a spark or a look that keeps making you want to talk, or glance, or think of something clever to say so the person doesn’t leave and so you can get to know them.
Well, this made no sense whatsoever for us. Our lives were worlds apart, my ride was already at the airport, and she was out of town forever at the crack of dawn. Before we both left the airport, I saw her three more times… coincidence? I spoke to her once more as I was leaving the baggage carousels because she looked a little lost (or was she?) so I directed her to the shuttles that should get her to the hotel. Why didn’t I ask her for her e-mail address, or her Facebook, or her phone number?? Because that would be absurd. How fucking complicated! Who has time for a long distance affair of the heart? I can hardly imagine anything worse. Secret phone calls? “Hey, who’s that girl from Milwaukee on your Facebook?” I don’t even have time to keep up with this damn blog!
Well, Nell, if you ever run across this, just know, I really, REALLY liked you and wished I had bailed on my ride and we had jumped in a cab to your hotel. I’m sure it would have been a wonderful mess. At least, that’s how it played out in my mind…
And the people replied…