The new airline restrictions had just been put into place and had me in a foul mood, holding a Ziploc with my passport and some sleeping pills. It is important to point out that is all I had in my bag because I used both a lot in the time between getting to the gate and boarding the plane. I was standing in line, in my cargo pants and white t-shirt with a Yankees hat on. There was a very cute boy in a blazer, loafers and a Yankees hat as well. We smiled. He left his spot ahead of me in line and came back.
Mr. Instant Upgrade (with a British accent): “What’s in your zip-loc?”
Me stunned and impressed: “Drugs, explosives and porn.”
IU: “Sounds like you need a drink.”
Me: “We’re boarding.”
IU: “We have till the end of the line.”
We go to the bar and I’m stressed because clearly we’re boarding. Plus Mr. IU is kind of cute in his Yankee hat (which later makes me annoyed because he says that it’s just because he had a bad hair day and he doesn’t really watch baseball). He pounds a double rum and coke. At 9 pm in the airport bar next to our gate. Actually, this is not too much of a shock as I have lived in the UK and know that guys need at least one or two in them before they can talk to girls. The fact that he came up to me is miraculous and I know he must have had a few before he saw me.
I have a sparkling water and take my sleeping pills, 3 of them; at the time of doing this, I wasn’t thinking much of it.
It was a sold out flight and I was in pigs and chickens so I was going to sleep through the red-eye from take-off to landing. Just as I gulped the water, he told me that he split his time between London and New York, clearly doing something financial. I follow that statement up with a question of my own. What does he have in his zip-loc? He holds it up and shows me his bag of gummy worms. Nice. I told him “How adorable” and that I am jealous. So he gives me the whole bag. He follows that irresistible move up with an even more irresistible line: Instant Upgrade, “That means that I’m going to have to come visit you during the flight.”
We hear that it’s the last call for boarding and get on the plane. I relax into my horrible seating conditions and Instant Upgrade settles into First Class. About two seconds pass. Literally.
Everyone else is still getting on the darn plane. Instant Upgrade comes back looks at my seat number above my head and asks for a gummy worm. Another two seconds after Instant Upgrade has gone back to his seat, the stewardess comes down the isle and tells me the following: “Miss, I’m so sorry but you are in the wrong seat. You’re in first class.”
I get up to first and the seat next to Instant is empty. I squeeze in and he explains that it was almost a disaster because the stewardess had asked for my last name and that he had to tell her that I was his girlfriend and only went by my first name, so to just say that. Somewhere just about this moment I begin to get a little bit drowsy.
We were about to take off and Instant is telling me about his sister has kids and how he is ready to settle down, is successful and 32 and wants to meet an amazing girl. I fill him in on some cute babble and he’s smitten and I’m just exhausted. I still find him very cute, but now I’m trapped in the darn seat next to him so I get uncomfortable, just like when someone tries to hold my hand at dinner when I really just want to cut my salmon properly. Always a big fan of the holding hands at night in the summer, or walking across the Brooklyn Bridge-especially when you are with the most anti-hand-holder, but come on, there’s a limit.
Somewhere between him giving me his card with twelve numbers and ten emails to contact him on in both cities, the sleeping pills kick in-fast. I pass out-for the entire flight. Minus that I woke up at one point and Instant was kind of leaning on me sleeping and trying to hold my hand, in my lap.
First of all, I was already uncomfortable because of the personal space issue, but my lap? I crossed my arms over my chest and put my hands in my armpits, pulled the blanket around me so tightly that it felt like a vintage prom night chastity belt (which in thinking about it could be a great re-invention, sold with cell-phone locks). I get off the plane with Instant and get through the passport lines, he is really chatty and I’m really still under the fuzzy, hazy feeling of sleep aids, and get excited that I am an American citizen and he is English, but then, he waits, it was a long line too! This clearly annoys me because I have to get straight to the bathroom, get my suit-dress on and get in a car to a meeting.
As sweet as this guy was, minus the hand-holding, he was already a big fan and all I really did was fall asleep and tell him about why I loved New York, plus I don’t like people to interrupt my routines in airports.
So we get to the baggage claim. Mine comes off very quickly because I always do the “I have to run to a meeting right away” and that I have a great airline status because of constant commuting. Now do I wait with Instant or do I go? I give him a pout and say that I have his contact details and I’m so sorry he waited, but I need to go. He tells me to call him tonight, I smile and run out. I still feel a little guilty that I left his numbers and emails in the seat-back pocket.
This sounds like a dream story but she did not maximize on the potential here. Very anticlimatic ending. But in her defense, maybe the sleeping pills had something to do with it.
Lets just say I would not have let it go down that way if this had happened to me.
Poor guy!