“Excuse me,” I said to the slim, impeccably dressed woman sitting next to me with thick, medium length hair and honey brown skin and the blond, forty-something balding gentleman in the aisle seat. They both stood and allowed me entry into the narrow passageway that cut the plane in half. I eased toward the back of the pressurized aluminum people-hauler toward the water closets.
Of course there was a line. I waited my turn. Taking slow deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. Once in the lavatory, I placed my hands on either side of the minuscule sink, metaphorically bracing myself. I stared in the mirror. In less than an hour, I would disembark. And he was supposed to be waiting for me. So many what-ifs raced through my mind. But the biggest: what if these emotions that soar via email, text and phone don’t translate in person?
So much known. So much unknown. Both raced through my mind.
“We have never video chatted,” I thought, “So I don’t even know what his mouth looks like as he forms the words that touch my soul, this beautiful communicator who has captured my heart. It seems like a little thing. But it’s not. When he says ‘hi’ for the first time. It will be the first time I have ever seen him say hi. And what if his flight is delayed and he’s not there to meet me? Will all this anxiety and build up be for naught? Will we be scrambling for a secondary meeting location?”
I ran cold water over my wrists, trying to slow my pulse rate. “Sleep,” he had said, “Sleep on the plane, my love.” Ha! As if I could.
I pulled out my compact and powdered my nose. At least I could look a little less frazzled. Maybe.
Back in my seat, I looked out the window to the light below. There were more of them now. Lots more.
I’m writing this on the plane. And I’m getting closer. Only 25 more minutes. No. Less than that.
“Flight attendants please prepare for landing.”
I have to put away my phone now.
I hope he is waiting.
Yes. This was really written on the plane. But I’m just now able to post.