PHL>LGA Part 1

I lift my eyes from my phone to see a pair of black high heels standing in front of me. My eyes wander up over a long, slender pair of legs in a pair of snug black pants. Lots of silver jewelry, diamonds on her left ring finger. A white jacket covering a low-slung black top. A hint of cleavage, a tanned chest, and a striking face shaped by a blonde ponytail. I'm guessing mid-40's. She is waiting for me to answer her it seems. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you ask me something?" I smile apologetically. "Are you headed to LaGuardia at 9:15am?" "I am" I reply, looking over at the check-in desk. It now says Miami 9:55am. "Hmm. Maybe they made a mistake. I haven't heard an announcement." "Well, I wouldn't hold your breath. They do this to me all the time." She pulls up her phone and starts typing. "I haven't even had my coffee yet, and now I worry that I'll have to walk all the way there, and then go elsewhere". I'm already bored with her. She is beautiful but starting to get on my nerves. I look at her and say "Well, I'm happy to watch your bags for you while you get your coffee." She politely declines and sits down a few seats away. It's only us in the lounge. She makes a phone call, which I can't help but overhear. First one child "If you don't stop crying, I won't go to American Girl for you…". Then the other: "It's okay to get questions wrong on your test. You didn't get a perfect score on your math test, and everything was okay – right?" Finally, her husband: "Please don't yell at …
the kids….I've only been gone 2 hours and you are already starting?" I tune her out, annoyed. A few minutes later, after a conversation with the agent, she strolls over to tell me our gate has been changed. We start walking towards the new gate together, making small talk. She works for a global call center. On a plane every week, different locations. 2 kids. Second marriage. Lives in the suburbs. She learns about me. Small business consultant, a fixer. Traveling to New York weekly for a couple of months. Married wtih 2 kids and live in the city. As we talk, she gets more interesting. Funnier. Her smile is electric, and she has a sharp sense of humor too. She asks me where I'm staying. In SoHo. "Me too!". We swap hotel stories and talk in detail about the best lobby bars. Then our flight is called. We line up together and board. She is 8 rows behind me. Just like that, it's over. I didn't even get her name. I sit down and immediately start fantasizing of what could have been. I know I'm kidding myself. I've been faithfully married for over a dozen years but it's nice to fantasize. I think about how she was leaning over to speak with me in the lounge, allowing me a peak down her top. She caught me looking once but didn't flinch. I'm sure I blushed a little. Before I know it, the flight is over. I shuffle off the plane and head for the taxi stand, casually looking over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of her – but no luck. As I'm in line for my taxi, I get a tap on the shoulder.

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