"Final call for all passengers of Hawaiian Airlines Flight 696, Honolulu to Sydney."
This is it- the start of my journey. Go forward. Anything is possible! I beeline to Gate 11.
On board, I get as cozy as I can, now faced with the prospect of nesting for the next nine hours in a seat the size of a bucket. Glancing up the aisle, endless flocks of vacationing Tommy Bahama shirts, khakis, and loafers scurry by.
I'm in the window seat of my row, and the first to sit. Looking over to the empty seat to my right, my only hope is that, a) the person claiming this seat weighs less than 300 pounds with no body odor issues, or, b) it's simply left unoccupied, thus resolving any likely conflicts of wrestling for the armrest, or inhaling a stranger's recycled breath for the remainder of the flight.
And then, I see her come aboard. Strikingly beautiful, black, tall, and slender...seducing her way down, row by row, to the rear of the plane (a fake blond, but pulls it off...in a way). She scans the seat numbers, and stops at my row.
Heart pounding, nervous perspiration, I pray that this is her seat.
She looks down. Our eyes meet.
Thank you!
As she settles in, adjusting her bag, seatbelt, flipping idly through airline magazines, I can't help but steal glances from time to time to get a good look at her. Admittedly, not exactly my type, but very easy on the eyes. The soft pink blouse was a very good choice- flattering in all the right places. Legs, long and toned. Out of appreciation, I feel like burning offerings to the airline gods.
She stuffs the magazine into the seat in front of her and looks over at me. "Enjoy your time in Hawaii?" she asks smoothly, opening the door for dialogue.
-"What? Oh, yeah! It was great. I mean, I just stayed a day, actually, but I had a lotta fun." The stammering is unplanned. I'm convinced she's absolutely turned on by it. She goes for the magazine once again. Wait!
-"So, are you from Australia or just visiting?" I ask. She doesn't even have an Aussie accent.
-"Visiting. I'm from L.A. And you? Heading down under for business...or pleasure?"
I grin. "All pleasure."
-"Oooh, I know what you mean. I needed to get away! Just a few days in Sydney."
Just three days? That's strange...I mean, it takes a day just to get there.
-"God, I hate flying coach!" she moans. "Normally, I never fly unless it's business or first." She reaches down to her handbag. "But, this time I'm the one paying, so..." pulls out a bottle of pills, "thank God for Vicodin!"
She pops a couple of pills and offers me the bottle. I politely refuse.
A few hours in, and a few more pills, she is now flying much higher than anyone else on board. Our chatter waxes and wanes parallel to her struggle to keep consciousness. "So, what did you say you did for a living?"
She smiles, reading me with glazed eyes. "I didn't."
-"Oh...so...what do y-"
-"I'm a porn star."







Over tea
Last night I was flipping through a journal from a fews years back when I lived in Spain. This is the entry that I came across-
...As he sipped his tea, he thought back to what he had endeavored. It all seemed so far from where he was now...his heart was pulsating gently, breath relaxed, his face calm and serene- a bit weathered now, but after any great storm things are never quite the same. He sipped his tea, and became entranced by the solitary flame of the candle at his table. The flame, he imagined, was not unlike him- alone on its own journey headed toward an inevitable end. Every now and again straying from its course with every breeze that passed, yet able to shine upright, brilliantly unflinching. Until the next breeze passed.
Home would have to be one of his stops. Home. He didn't want to think of it right now. He was here and sipped his tea, lost to the charm of his flickering companion. He was exhausted.
Rest was what he really needed. The tea was simply an excuse to people-watch and hopefully find another person to talk to. Here, amidst the calm of tea and candles, he reflected upon his predicament. Time would tell...Until then, well, even until then seemed out of reach. So he sipped his tea, knowing that decisions would inevitably be made that would forever change the remainder of his journey.
For now, at least he had his candle.
"Though the sun is gone, I have a light..."
-Kurt Cobain
August 18, 2007 at 04:01 AM in Life's Random Moments, Perspectives, Photo Commentary, Short Stories, Travel | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)