I was angry as I boarded the plane then settled back in my first-class seat. Unfortunately, as the plane took off and reached cruising altitude my fury was almost overshadowed with a sweat-inducing mild nausea. I gripped the arm rests like a baby monkey holds onto its mother for dear life. In other words, my hands were going nowhere.
Looking over to my right, I faked a smile at the blue-eyed man next to me. He had a friendly enough face. The knuckles on my "vice grips" had turned white. He glanced down at them. It seemed like he wanted to say something from the look of his furrowed brow, but a flight attendant stopped at our row, interrupting his thought. He raised his chin which caused me to follow the line of his vision.
"Would you care for a refreshment?" she asked, knowing from years of experience how anxious I was. She returned shortly with a rum and diet coke with a lime twist. "First time flying?"
With the glass up to my mouth I said, "No." This surprised her but she simply nodded her head, patted me on the shoulder and moved on.
The plane made a sudden lurch and I swallowed hard. The flight attendant was forced to grab hold of the back of another passengers' seat. Blue-eyes next to me recoiled a bit. I'd heard myself grunt softly as more turbulence shook the plane, but was unaware the sound had been audible. I swallowed again then licked my lips.
"I hate flying," I said rolling my eyes at myself.
"Can see that." His tone wasn't teasing or even sarcastic, instead there was understanding. My pre-flight wrath slipped and was slowly being replaced with mild irritation. "Would it help if I told you a story...," he paused probably because of the look on my face, "I mean to pass the time."
"Uh huh. What's it about?"
"Hmmm...how I met my wife."
I sat up straighter, this I had to hear. He chuckled at how I'd prepared myself for listening—sitting up straighter, pushing my hair behind my ears and taking a sip of my drink.
"Ready?" He raised his brow.
"Yea," I cocked my head. As he began to tell his tale, I traced the outline of his face with my eyes. He was undeniably handsome, but ruggedly so; not too perfect, just right. His eyes sparkled as he described being in Vegas just a few days before being deployed to Afghanistan. There had been a club he and his buddies had wanted to check out. I rolled my eyes, as it turned out to be a strip joint. We laughed as he tried to tell me he didn't know where they were going.
"Sure, you didn't know," I chided him. He doesn't deny it because he knows nothing he would've said on the subject could have mattered at that point. I didn't believe him.
"Okay, okay," he said with his palms up in surrender, "I may have had some idea." I pursed my lips and nodded my head with my eyebrows raised. The story was helping to calm my nerves or maybe it was just the drink.
He paused to smirk then continued, "...then this girl walked in and, oh man, my heart stopped. I didn't even know what day it was anymore."
I shook my head. "Stop, no way. How's that possible?"
"It's true. Okay, but my world did come to a stand-still," he conceded.
"So love at first sight?"
"Definitely," he turned and looked past me out the window—his eyes distant. As he turned to look forward again, his eyes raked over my face for a moment. Heat made my cheeks flush. And then, the now niggle of irritation I'd had, was gone. I was suddenly more nervous for a reason other than flying. The plane jerked causing me to white-knuckle the arm rests again. The captain came on the intercom and asked the crew to take a seat until we were clear of the turbulence. Taking deep breaths did little in the way of calming me so I downed my beverage. As I drank, I watched him take a deep breath then run his hands through his thick hair. "You don't want to hear this," he said while staring at his hands.
"Please, finish the story," I pleaded; anything would be better than listening to the blood that pounded in my ears. "What happened after you met?"
"We talked as we walked the strip. Didn't even care anymore about seeing the sights, gambling, none of that. It was like she was the only reason I'd come to Vegas."
I snorted but smiled.
"What?" he asked as he crinkled his forehead.
"I just...well...really? You think she felt the same way?"
"She must've because I asked her to marry me."
"And she said yes," I said as a statement not as a question.
"Yes," he nodded emphatically.
"She must've been out of her mind." I rolled my eyes and smirked.
"Yes," he grinned, clearly proud of his wife.
I listened to his words about how much he loved his wife and how each day he tried to do something unexpected to remind her of how unpredictable life and love can be. When he was done, I had tears in my eyes which threatened to spill over. Handing over a napkin he smiled then chuckled when I blew my nose. I batted his arm lightly. He clutched it feigning injury.
"You liked my story, I take it."
"Uh huh, she's really a lucky girl to have you."
"You think so?" He gestured dismissively with a wave of a hand.
After the flight, I was standing at the baggage claim carrousel and felt the heat of someone standing close behind me. By the scent of his after-shave, I could tell that someone was lucky girls' husband.
My black Samsonite made its arduous winding journey around to me. I announced the bags' arrival into the air. He leaned forward and yanked it up by the handle, but he didn't put it down. There was a burgundy suitcase already at his feet with the pull handle sticking up. "Um...thank you, kind sir," I joked.
Then he slowly winked at me and said, "Let's go home."
