“I’m looking forward to going home to Ottawa, where I can understand the language(s) most of the time, never have to buy a coffee for 2 pound 20, and hardly ever get lost. Not that I don’t enjoy vacations, of course… Wait, that’s pathetic isn’t it?”
That’s what I told the guy sitting next to me on the plane from London on Friday afternoon. And what luck to get him as a seatmate, because I had given up my assigned seat to a young couple who wanted to sit together. The crew was short on tea, coffee, and other beverages, and despite my best attempts I could only manage to wheedle from the stewardess a Coor’s Light that tasted exactly like cardboard. My well-traveled companion, however, shook his head at my complaints and, with a twinkle in his eye, made haste for the back of the plane. Moments later he arrived with a Heineken in one hand and a rye & Coke in the other. “I know how these things work,” he said mysteriously. Cheers to that! 4 beers later, the world was looking decidedly brighter, and our conversation was taking a lively turn.
I think I managed to convince him to try the Carleton triathlon in May, and also that I really wasn’t engaged, or a basketball player, and he tried to convince me that A) I wasn’t that “old”; B) I don’t need to wait until my 30th birthday to travel again; C) It’s important to work at something you enjoy; and D) Academia is over-rated. I countered by trying to convince him that he didn’t look 34 (which he didn’t). I’m going grey and his hair is thinning. We commiserated.
At the baggage check he hauled a monster of a suitcase onto the trolley. I saw him grimace and I said: “Geez, would you like a hand with that?” Ang jabbed me in the ribs: “April, don’t be so rude!” and I saw him look sideways at my unfortunate smirk. But I doubt that either of us felt like being serious after the booze and the long air journey… he stood up, laughed (oh yes) and gave me a big smack on the cheek before speeding away. Ang was astonished. So was I. Now I’ve collected kisses from 3 strangers in 2 weeks. Unprovoked for the most part.
On to the beginning of the story! I didn’t take notes, so I have to write in instalments.
