SUICIDE or MURDER.

Bright landing lights penetrated the fog as the Lufthansa 747 cruised gracefully into LAX just after dark. It seemed to hang in the air like a giant condor, hovering, searching for prey, then with the roar of its powerful engines, swooped in for a perfect landing and the final dash along the runway. The passengers were pretty docile after the tiring flight from Europe and many stared out the aircraft windows at the lights that resembled glowworms in the enveloping fog.

Oblivious to this, a nattily dressed, ‘too cool for school’, blonde guy in 27A was getting down to his favorite rap. His ultra hi fidelity Sennheiser cans were plugged into the aircraft system while the elaborate designer case sat on the vacant seat next to his big screen i-Phone and ‘genuine calfskin’ gold embossed, Dunhill passport holder.

The heavily loaded airliner moved from the runway to one of the many taxiways picked out by subdued blue lighting. This illumination criss-crossed the field creating a surreal coloured fairyland in the fog. The spectacular rotating green and white beam from the tower reflected the mist to join with the kaleidoscope of colour from flashing red and blue safety lights on a myriad of fire trucks and the sporadic amber of the baggage carts and refueling vehicles. A hive of workers went about preparing for the turn-around but it seemed to take forever for the giant craft to taxi all the way to gate 52.

Two tired but sweet Flight attendants commenced saying goodbye to 356 disembarking passengers as they wearily filed out of the aircraft in a zombie line.

“Have a nice stay.”

“You take care now”

“Hey! Enjoy your time at Disneyland.”

“Hope you fly with us again soon.”

“Here, let me help you with that.”

A couple of times, these two cheekily poked faces at each other, when there was an opportunity to get away with it and not get sprung by the passengers.

“You made the flight a real pleasure for me.” The blonde European guy thanked her so sincerely and profusely, it caused Leah’s eyebrows to almost touch her hairline. It also caused Mina to shake her head in mock consternation. Did she really give him that much pleasure on the flight? Oh hell! Did she really give him her cell phone number? Here we go again! Mina shrugged, rolling her big dark eyes.

She could never be like Leah. They were opposites in so many ways and yet were able to work brilliantly together and remained the very best of friends. “Three days stopover,” whispered Leah between final greetings, “three days break …Wowee!” Mina’s face broke into an attractive smile which she turned on the next alighting passenger, who just happened to be the fat, ugly grouch who had put on a performance in Business Class over the inadequacies of the wine selection. “Thank-you for flying Lufthansa, Sir.” She winced just a little at his responding grunt, while Leah smiled at the irony and showed Mina the tip of her tongue again. Finally, when all the passengers had alighted, the flight attendants left the aircraft together and walked smartly through the boarding tunnel to the terminal, pulling their wheeled carry-ons behind them.

Mina and Leah still called Los Angeles home, but flew for Lufthansa out of Europe, so a stopover in LA was considered pretty special, since they had family here. The girls stepped off the travelator and moved into the commercial area. Something in a Duty Free shop caught Mina’s eye and she pointed almost imperceptibly at the magnificent Ralph Lauren casual jacket in a men’s wear display. Leah didn’t miss the gesture and shook her head causing a few errant strands of her long blonde hair to escape the way she wore it up when working. She knew it was about Ron. Well, not really about him specifically. Ron Opus was a drop-kick; in fact, he was a total retard, creepy, loser, drop-kick. How did that particular sperm ever win the race? Leah had sort of loathed him from the start because he was ignorant and viewed women as sex objects. (Vanessa: “Mr Powers I would never have sex with you, ever; ever! If you were the last man on earth and I was the last woman on earth, and the future of the human race depended on our having sex, simply for procreation, I still would not have sex with you”. Austin Powers: “What’s your point Vanessa”?)

Mina was the type of girl who needed someone to care for and fuss over and as a result, she was also a master at attracting ‘lame ducks’. Leah, on the other hand, was single, footloose and fancy free. It seemed that Mina just had to be attached since she couldn’t function as a single unit. No, that wasn’t really true; on second thoughts, she could function just fine because she was an ultimate professional and the best friend Leah ever had. The girls had known each other since high school and lived in the same neighbourhood. Leah thought about it for a moment. Terminally lovesick? Partly true; it’s just that there are some horses that simply perform better in double harness and Mina was a lot like that. Most times, she was the warm and cheery, girl next door type, who in time could become the perfect wife and wonderful mother, but she also had a sophisticated side that exuded intelligence and a quick wit. Maybe this is what the guys sensed and couldn’t handle or maybe Mina simply hadn’t met the right ones. The reality was that she didn’t need adventure like Leah did, she needed family. She didn’t need exploits, she needed relationships. Yet, somehow, together the girls clicked and were hugely mutually supportive; their personal strengths and weaknesses seemed to complement and overlap.

They passed the lines of passengers waiting at Customs and Immigration, which presented a mere formality for flight crew, and quickly proceeded towards the taxi ranks outside the LAX terminal. Bristling at the cold, they exited to the roadway and looked for a taxi to share. How good it felt to be home!

The parting of ways hadn’t gone well when Mina had terminated her short relationship with Ron, on her last visit home. God! Was it three weeks ago? Things might still be a bit awkward so Leah was determined to be there for her friend, come what may. With any luck they wouldn’t see the obsessive creep at all. It wasn’t that Mina had really missed him, she only missed being in a relationship and that’s what her look at the Polo jacket had been about. ‘In love with being in love’, Leah recognised it.

Although the girls enjoyed flying, and loved exotic destinations, it was not the sort of career that was conducive to forming lasting relationships. Leah thrived on this aspect, but knew that Mina didn’t, so she made up her mind, to ensure her friend was not going to have an instant to mope or be miserable on this home break. Actually a new relationship is what she really needed, and Leah, a matchmaker at heart, was seriously on the lookout. Even the ethnic cabbie didn’t escape a quick appraisal as the taxi sped off into the night, lights whirling like ghosts in the LA fog.

The Apartment

The taxi passed an apartment block on the main arterial road not far from the city centre and the girls barely gave it a glance. Observed from the street, the complex appeared to be a tired, old brownstone, but at least inside unit 9/3A it was newly painted, comfortable, tidy and immaculately clean. The happy animated chatter of the homecoming girls, was ironically, in sharp contrast to the harsh discourse being exchanged within this unit. The language was not at all comfortable, tidy ….. or clean.

“You’re a low-life bum Clive Opus! Did you ever think of getting a job or doing any work? No! You’ve always been a bum and now you’re teaching our son to go the same way”. Maggie Opus was on the wrong side of sixty, but still a tidy package of trim, good looking woman, even though the hair was graying and there was weariness showing in her eyes. Thank God wrinkles don’t hurt, she often reflected. They had moved into this apartment almost eight years ago when she had a windfall in the form of an unexpected inheritance from an aunt she had nursed for years. The surprising thing was that no one knew the old lady had money stashed away and Maggie was the only one selfless enough to support her with no ulterior motive. She now stood in the kitchen scrubbing a saucepan with a brillo and maintained a calm dignity despite the situation she had been forced to endure. Sure, she was tired and world weary from life with the unkempt Clive, but she maintained a quiet decorum that neither her husband nor son possessed. Neither of these two reprobates had worked in living memory, more than happy to sponge on her inheritance. Not one to indulge in self-pity, right now, Maggie couldn’t prevent a thought flashing through her mind, about how much more fulfilling her life might be with a responsible husband and a loving son.

Clive’s stained singlet and slovenly ways were an outward manifestation of the turmoil in his mind. He had always wanted to be somebody and had a thousand excuses ready, to explain the rotten hand that fate had dealt him, circumstances that had always somehow prevented him from getting ahead. A thousand other people were to blame. In his mind he was never at fault.

Maggie’s hopes and dreams and all ambition were long gone and now she just wanted peace and quiet and an escape from the constant antagonism and shame of her husband and her son. They had been quietly whispering together just out of her hearing, planning more trouble no doubt. She controlled the money and saw that Clive was making this point angrily to his son. She had then watched Ronnie storm out, seething with anger. Maggie was over it all but still couldn’t come to terms with how she had failed as a parent. Ronnie was an only child and she didn’t have him until later in life and now wondered if this was where she went wrong. She had tried so hard with him but nothing seemed to work. It was the same old thing, he always wanted more money and historically, she had found it difficult to deny him anything. Lately he had become so secretive that she was reticent to give in to him anymore; he would disappear for days at a time, even for a week and never tell her where he was going or what he was doing or ever discuss where he had been.

He’d had a lovely girl for a short time, Maggie had met her once. She seemed so sweet and Maggie hoped she might settle Ronnie down, but he had not treated her very well and they had broken up after a couple of weeks. Her son was tall and apart from the scowl that now appeared to be permanent, could have been an attractive young man. Despite all her work with him, it just seemed he held no idea of how to interact with decent folk. She had tried so hard to raise him right, to instill some social skills and values of respect, but the rebellion and overbearing influence of his father was something stronger than a mother’s love and caring. Father and son seemed to share an anger that bordered on madness, which she simply couldn’t fathom. There was no hardness or cruelty in her nature and she was plainly not equipped to deal with it in others. They were leeches, she finally admitted to herself. Blood sucking leeches.

“Don’t you ever talk down to me like that again!” Oh God! Clive was back from rummaging in the bedroom. She had been lost in her thoughts and had almost forgotten about his anger at her words. As if to punctuate his outburst Clive produced a double barreled shotgun, raised it to his shoulder and slowly, purposefully pulled back both hammers. He saw the disgust in her eyes, edged with an element of fear and this is what he lived for. He savored the feeling for a long moment. Life had dealt him a lousy hand and now he fought back with intimidation and control. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again”, he repeated enjoying the feeling of power pumping through his body. “Bitch!”

Time had slowed down. She clearly heard the screech of tyres as her son pulled out from the apartment block. She wasn’t to know if the gun was loaded or not, thought Clive as he finally hammered down. She heard the violent acceleration of Ronnie’s car as the barrel of the shotgun slammed against the side of her neck. She didn’t even feel it. Her husband hadn’t existed in her life for a good many years and his juvenile power displays really didn’t bother her much. Now Clive stormed out heading for a bar and grill, without even changing his dirty singlet.

Good riddance! He didn’t matter much. Now she was forced to admit to herself that she didn’t know her own son anymore. That actually hurt her far more than the blow had done. Why couldn’t Ronnie see the lonely road he was taking? She thought of the joy they had shared when he was a little boy and the tears came.

SUNDAY

Ron Opus

Breakfast in Unit 9/3A resembled a sick parade. The two ungrateful patients were both unwell with self-inflicted illnesses procured from dubious liquor in two different sleazy bars. They maintained silence except for the sucking and slurping sounds as orange juice, toast, bacon, eggs and coffee disappeared. Feeding time at the zoo. They left the table without a word of thanks or appreciation; Maggie had not even been acknowledged. She was the ATM and house slave, nothing more. If it wasn’t for the money, they’d throw rocks at her. She had thought late into the night about this situation and resolved that it could not continue; she was fully over it.

Maggie hadn’t had a victory in a while. She was standing at the sink with a plunger, earnestly continuing an on-going battle with the prehistoric plumbing in the apartment block. Finally, the sink gave off a sulky gurgle, manifested some brackish liquid with a revolting smell that fortunately drained away fairly rapidly. Maggie resisted the temptation to punch the air, rejoicing that she had finally triumphed but it was to be short lived. Again, she heard the screech of tyres as Ronnie left, signaling that once more her words had not got through to him. His red car raced into the morning sunshine, his erratic driving telegraphing the rage seething inside him. He had used up his credit and had to get some money. He pulled out his cell phone and called ‘the man’. Something was written in permanent marker pen on the case of his cell phone, but his hand covered it as the call connected. “Ron here; do you have another job lined up?”

Flynn was a total thug and sounded it, “Bring me the money first, Ronnie Boy.”

“Be cool man, it’s happening, I’ll bring it tomorrow,” lied Ron.

“OK, I’ll stay cool, but don’t let me down,” snapped Flynn. Nobody let him down – not ever. As Ron went to replace his cell phone, it made noise. He noted the caller ID, made the connection and then briefly smiled as he listened. It was a momentary wicked smile, before the anger reappeared and the scowl got deeper. How dare that slag break up with him? He dug in the glove compartment, dragged out a packet and snorted a nose full of coke as he drove, light glinted on the butt of a pistol concealed there and he lovingly stroked the cool metal as he replaced his stash. He could have any girl he wanted. It was those pilots in their fancy uniforms that had turned her head… bastards! His mother had cut off his money….. Jesus! Was the whole world against him? “I’ll show her,” he breathed aloud. A mad look showed in his eyes. It wasn’t certain whether he meant the ex-girlfriend or his mother. Perhaps in his muddled mind, it was both.

The Dojang

The simple sign out front read ‘LA City - Police Youth Club’. A large glossy coloured photo mounted on the Dojang wall showed a tall, muscular young man with sandy hair and a square chiseled jaw, in the act of throwing a larger competitor. There was a lot of animation captured in that frozen sixtieth of a second, but the memorable feature was the young man’s startling, steel blue eyes. At the far end of the polished timber floor, those same blue eyes were focused on a much smaller opponent. She was going through various kicks and blocks when he sprang into action. God, he was like a well-oiled machine, smooth and fast. His demeanor was usually that of a serene, relaxed guy but when he was involved in martial arts, it was total concentration and focus, every moment. The reflected overhead lighting glittered on the platinum and gold thread embroidered on his black belt. It spelled out ‘Adam Harper Mills’ in English and depicted Korean symbols for his third dan rating. Effortlessly, he relaxed from his fighting stance, snapped down his sleeves and bowed to the girl and dismissed her.

At a command, “Chul Sa”, the Tae Kwon Do class lined up quickly. He addressed his young students and they listened intently, hanging on his every word. Many came from pretty tough neighbourhoods and several commenced martial arts for protection against the local gangs. Adam had good reason to be proud of them all. At first it had been incredibly difficult for him, but now every new student was pulled into line by the positive peer pressure and integrity of the collective group. The respect and self-esteem he had instilled in them was more than evident. It seemed to be a palpable thing that reverberated with his words around the Dojang. “We follow the two ‘Rs’…Respect and Responsibility.” They heard it every week, but still listened intently. “Respect for ourselves; respect for others. Responsibility for those we can help; responsibility for our actions.” The message was slowly getting through to even the toughest ones there. “We learn about life here. We learn about strength of character and good living here. We learn martial arts for fitness and for self-defense,” he told them for the hundredth time, “…not to fight, but rather, so we don’t have to fight.” This caused a few to swallow or wince slightly, unconsciously telegraphing that this was a real life situation for them. Adam relaxed a little and a grin split his animated face, “OK, You did well today. Take care now. Be strong, train hard and remember; Eat right. Think right. Live right.” He dismissed the class. They bowed to each other.

Adam’s build was deceptive, as he moved out after a shower, dressed in Levis and sneakers with a California State University track suit top. He was tall and trim with an air of confidence, but hidden was the muscular chest, the firm biceps and the hard whipcord muscles of his ‘six pack’ abs, honed from many years of discipline and training. He certainly didn’t exhibit male model looks but all his attributes seemed to blend in a classical way, creating a very pleasing persona that was set off by those amazing eyes; clear windows to the soul. To even a casual observer, Adam exuded an aura of warmth and friendliness but his easy graceful walk certainly belied the deadly focused instrument he had been on the mat some minutes before.

A car screeched to a stop right next door to the Youth Club but he paid no attention as he locked the front door, until the girl screamed.

The Sidewalk Café

“Isn’t it great to me home,” exclaimed Leah. “My neurotic cat still has separation anxiety and shows her affection on my return by dragging headless carcasses into the house and depositing them at my bedroom door. She seems to have trouble understanding my less than enthusiastic response to her generous gifts and consequently, continues to upsize. I am expecting to find an albatross or a pelican at my door any day soon.” Mina had been sharing a blueberry muffin with Leah in their favorite coffee shop, while untouched café latte’s cooled in front of them. She smiled and brought up the subject of the hot European guy on the flight. “So what precisely did you do to make his flight so memorable? Are we talking ‘mile high’ stuff or what?” Refreshed after a good night’s sleep in her own bed, Mina was the picture of loveliness, her shoulder length dark hair gleamed and her tall tanned body oozed fitness and good health. Her dark eyes held Leah’s gaze but a smile touched her generous mouth. “My lips are sealed.” it was Leah’s standard answer; still, she did laugh at the suggestion. She wore her blond hair long, with a few streaked highlights and projected an equally fit and healthy appearance. Hers was an angular attractiveness that could not rival the classic beauty of her friend. Nevertheless men found her striking, and on the job, she was hit on more frequently than Mina. They both wore black Versace jeans with designer tops that complimented their trim figures. Both girls cut a very smart, casual profile but somehow, Leah always seemed the more approachable.

Not so long back they had answered an advertisement, had applied together and had been selected as flight attendants with Lufthansa. They had trained together in Europe and were inseparable ever since, usually flying in the same crew. The job wasn’t quite as glamorous as they had first envisaged, but they certainly had no complaints. The work on the long haul trips was repetitious and tiring, however, this was more than compensated by the travel they so much enjoyed. In fact they had toured exotic places, seen much of Europe and indeed a lot of the world. They often joked that it was certainly much better than a real job.

“It is so good to be home,” Leah said again, “we’ll see if the girls want to go for a swim.” She pulled out her cell phone. In reality, flying out of Europe had been perfect for Mina and her horizons were broadening as a result. With the experience, she was becoming a more robust and rounded person. Both girls’ high school German was improving daily, but on the aircraft they mostly spoke English anyway.

The screech of tyres made Mina turn her head sharply, cascading curls around her face. Her big eyes dilated. “Tell me this isn’t happening,” she breathed as she saw Ron Opus leaping out of the car and rushing towards them, yelling incoherently. Jesus!

The entire scenario seemed fully surreal. Ron had been a mistake, a bad one. She had heard of girls being attracted to ‘bad boys’, but this guy was a maniac. What a loser he had turned out to be. God! What had she ever seen in him? He harboured enough issues for a psychiatrist’s convention and all his accusations were so juvenile. Mina was a naturally honest and open person and yet he had always been so secretive and distant. She was tired of it all. Tired of his insecurities; tired of the abuse; tired of him, period. She was so totally over it, it wasn’t true. Why do I always end up with losers and liars she thought aloud? “What’s wrong with me? Am I a ‘moron magnet’?”

Then he was in front of her grabbing at her handbag. Leah tried to intervene and copped a hard slap across the face for her trouble. The table went over spilling coffee everywhere. The hand closed into a fist and it was coming right for Mina when a minor miracle occurred. At lightning speed, another hand intercepted the punch, twisted sharply and Ron slid along the sidewalk on his face, taking out the next table and two unoccupied chairs. Bellowing like a bull he regained his feet with a stupid look on his bleeding visage. He charged the agile stranger, who anticipated the move and easily avoided the attack, throwing out an arm to protect the girls and move them out of the way. “Come on, calm down; this isn’t helping anybody. Don’t be stupid.” He tried desperately to reason with the enraged tough. There was no place for reasoning with Ron Opus. Traces of madness showed in his eyes, and he attacked again, this time wielding a metal chair he had grabbed in his forward movement. Saliva and blood dribbled to his chin as he opened his mouth to curse. He would now pound this interfering bastard’s head in, then deal with the girls. He moved forward, this time more calculating and more treacherous. Adam instinctively recognized the inherent danger in this situation and his eyes became pinpoints of focus.

The ’Art of War’ suggests that if a man is actually your enemy, aim to kill - not to wound. Adam had always thought that was a bit excessive and over dramatic and he would never subscribe to this philosophy. Now, however, he found himself standing toe to toe with a man devoid of scruples, devoid of reason, devoid of compassion; a man he didn’t even know, who nevertheless, wanted to kill him. When he eventually moved to disarm this enraged psychopath, it was straight from the manual, delivered at a speed that was difficult to follow. Side step, block, spear hand, block, front kick, punch, side kick, swivel turn, roundhouse kick. It was a combination he had practiced many, many times but never to disarm a live opponent and the impact was devastating.

When Ron finally regained consciousness, lying in the gutter, the shaken girls and their rescuer were gone. Carlo, the chubby little Italian proprietor was still busy picking up his broken crockery, mopping up spilled coffee and righting his overturned furniture. His wife had already called an ambulance.

Dark Green Mustang

The girls proved they were fairly resilient and determined to enjoy their break, because not much later that morning they were driving undeterred in Leah’s elder brother’s immaculately restored, dark green Mustang. Her brother Steve was away overseas with the Air Force and allowed her to drive his car when she was home. Their friend Caitlin, had joined them as they toured through Orange County towards North Long Beach chatting happily.

“Hey! ‘Spray on Pants’, I love this song,” said Leah as she turned up the car stereo, until the heavy bass lines rattled the windows. “My young brother plays a Fender P-bass and I love the bass riff in that introduction bit.” She sang along, “They… try to get up to dance, but they’re all wearing spray on pants…” She winced as the singing pained her sore cheek. “Oh my God! He was incredible!” exclaimed Mina to her friends for the fifth time; this time actually running on the spot while sitting in the leather passenger side, bucket seat. Kicking her feet up and down certainly emphasized the point and seemed to get rid of some adrenalin. “He just came out of nowhere and the fight…Jesus! He was so fast.”

“He was amazing,” agreed Leah, “I never saw anything like that before in my life.”

“But he was so kind and gentle, checking your poor cheek and he calmed us down and got us out of there.” said Mina dreamily.

“But remember one small detail girlfriend; he left no forwarding address,” stated Leah, “probably married with about ten kids… but then he did say his name was Adam.”

“Yes, Adam! The original man,” said Mina in a throaty voice.

“Maybe he is looking for an Eve,” breathed Leah, ever the matchmaker, but somehow sounding more like a midnight to dawn D.J. making a breathy announcement. “He certainly beat off the snake,” added Mina, staying with the silly theme.

“After he hit me, the moronic, low-life creep!”

Mina winced, still visibly shaken, “Oh my God, don’t remind me. You poor thing; does it still hurt?”

“Yeeees! Hello! My bottom molars have just been bent out of shape by a woman beating weirdo and you ask if it hurts?”

“You girls are slipping,” observed Caitlin, “You mean to say, you didn’t even give him your phone number?”

“It happened so quickly. I was too shocked to even thank Adam properly,” admitted Mina.

“Well, if you like, we could just use up the rest of our break driving up and down all the streets calling out …Hey Adam!” teased Leah, getting Mina’s mind back to Earth and causing Caitlin to chuckle.

Adam’s Apartment

Adam spent the rest of the day back in his apartment, working on an assignment. He tapped furiously at the computer keyboard and consulted a myriad of books spread out around his work area. He certainly took his studies seriously and did each assignment to the best of his ability. For just one moment he stopped work and re-lived the events of the morning. “Stupid!” he whispered aloud shaking his head from side to side.

Stupid - that the assailant would attack women in broad daylight.

Stupid - that someone actually let this creep off his chain.

Stupid - that he wasn’t able to reason with him.

Stupid - that he had attacked using a chair as a weapon.

Stupid - that Adam couldn’t render him immobile without that last series of damaging kicks. The whole thing was so damn stupid!

Stupid - that Adam hadn’t got the scared, dark haired girl’s phone number.

Dinner at Lo Stivale

That evening, Mina and Leah along with Caitlin, met up with some old school friends at a little Italian restaurant that had long been a favorite for great food at a reasonable cost. It was appropriately named ‘Lo Stivale’ the Italian words for ‘The Boot’ describing the well-known boot shape of the Italian peninsular.

The globetrotting girls were the centre of attention as their friends sought to know every detail of their little jaunts around the world. The designer clothes picked up in the country of origin or duty free for a fraction the cost in America, made the other girls just a tad envious. Both Mina and Leah were not the sort of girls who generated jealousy or resentment over trifles and their friends were actually very proud to see them living the dream. Of course, the presents of duty free perfume and airline give away stuff were appreciated too, but their friends genuinely wished Mina and Leah well and believed these two certainly deserved everything they had achieved. There was a lot of ‘girl talk’ and the meeting with Adam was discussed and dissected in the finest detail. Most agreed with Caitlin, that they should have exchanged phone numbers, no matter how intense the situation.

“Are there ever any hot prospects among your passengers?” one of the girls asked cheekily putting down her wine glass. Leah responded negatively about the wine list grouch and Mina gave a hilarious outline of the European guy whose life had been immeasurably enhanced by meeting Leah on the flight into LA. Their friends adored these stories and frequently interrupted with hilarity.

“Last week I actually had a lady tell me that her new boyfriend was meeting her, so could I reallocate her away from the window seat to the aisle, so her hair wouldn’t get messed up,” Mina shared. “She was so sweet and so serious. Some passengers haven’t flown before and simply have no idea.”

“A lady on one flight wanted to know how it was possible that her flight from Munich left at 8:20am and got into Paris at 8:33am I tried to explain that Munich was in a different time zone, two hours ahead of Paris, but she couldn’t grasp the concept of time zones at all. Finally, I told her that the plane went really fast, and she seemed happy with that!” added Leah.

“Actually on this trip to LAX,” Mina shared, “I had a lovely lady who was a bit overweight who said she was really upset that the man had written FAT on her luggage slip. She thought it was to identify her when she picked up her luggage from the carousel. I checked it out and couldn’t stop laughing. She was through connected to Fresno and the city code for Fresno is FAT (Fresno Air Terminal). I had to explain that it wasn’t derogatory; the airline was just putting the standard destination tag on her luggage.”

“What about that weird guy in Frankfurt,” exclaimed Leah, “He wasn’t even on our flight; he grabbed us at the Airport complaining because the desk had said he needed a visa to fly to China. We confirmed that yes, he would indeed need a visa. Well, he didn’t like Visa and thought they’d accept his MasterCard. ” Mina and Leah both cracked up at the memory. “I don’t know what the desk said to him,” laughed Mina.

“There was an interesting guy out of Paris,” Leah reminisced, “He looked great and gave me a wink….but he was wearing Crocs and that totally didn’t do it for me.”

“What’s wrong with Crocs,” someone asked.

“Hello! We saw ‘The Dictator’ as an in-flight movie and I can’t help but recall the line, ‘Crocs are the Universal symbol of a man who has given up hope’. Come on Guys, I can forgive anything, but not Crocs. I believe Crocs with socks could be used for birth control.”

Smiles all around as more drinks arrived. What had started out as a quiet dinner was now threatening to advance into a full blown party, until Caitlin reminded everybody that it was Sunday night and although ‘some people’, were ladies of leisure, most had to show up bright eyed and bushy tailed at the ‘Salt Mines’ in the morning. The group reluctantly broke up.