gate 34
Start writing here…
Passport: Check.
Ticket: Check.
Phone battery: 86%. Wow, BIG check.
Maid of honour outfit: Probably getting crumpled in my luggage. But, check.
A running list of essential items and whimsical musings floated through Elizabeth’s mind as she made the long walk to the departure gate. Going home. About bloody time, she thought. It had been a hectic work year, but with the December holidays around the corner, the salty Goan air was calling out to her. And in the literal sense, her mother too had been calling - non-stop for a week - double-checking, to make sure she was indeed coming. That’s where she gets it from, she thought. She would have preferred her mother’s cooking skills, but instead, she inherited her compulsive list-making and double-checking habit.
Gate 34, finally. The seating area was partially full, but being a solo-traveller, Elizabeth found a cosy corner chair, towards the back. Scanning the lounge, she was in the perfect spot to check out any potential eye-candy, without seeming too obvious. So far, there were a handful of newlywed couples, no doubt on their way to a luxury resort. Typical.
Also in the mix, a few Grimy backpackers, who would probably be staying at one of the new hipster hostels that were popping up all over Anjuna. She spotted some businessmen, but she knew better than to fantasise about them before she could identify a wedding ring. And then... in the opposite corner, leaning against the ceiling-to-floor window panel - she spotted him.
Dressed in an ordinary outfit - lumberjack-style plaid shirt and a snug pair of jeans was an absolute 10. Clearly, this man didn’t have a desk job, because it took hours at the gym to make a basic outfit look that good. He was busy on his phone, and she hoped he wasn’t texting a girlfriend - or wife - or boyfriend - or all of the above.
Her day was looking up. Not only had she managed to get a cheap ticket, during high season, but her little flirt-game at the check-in counter scored her an exit aisle seat. Did she have long legs, that required more room? No, they were, in fact, short, stubby and currently, stuffed into a pair of olive green jeggings that used to fit. She blamed her weight gain on the bloody Bombay batata wadas. No, she thought, those 3BWs were worth the damn KGs. They had been her go-to lunchtime meal for a steady eight months and gave her sustenance to push through long working hours. No, her legs did not need the extra space, but when flying economy, Elizabeth, like other thrifty Indian travellers, loved a good bargain.
Little did she know that the exit aisle seat would be more than what she had bargained for.
Seatbelt fastened: Check.
Synthetic blanket tucked: Check.
Fingers crossed: Check.
Elizabeth hoped she wouldn’t be seated next to a talkative old aunty who would ask her questions about why she wasn’t married. Or worse, some pungent hing smelling uncle, who invariably carried his wife’s homemade snacks with him. One by one prospective passengers passed by, until a man, wearing a smart Panama hat, in his late 70s, turned up. He smiled at her and attempted to store his small stroller in the overhead bin. Two attempts and he was struggling; his frail arms were about to fail. The stroller, now tempting fate, almost fell when she leapt up to grab it, only to be pulled harshly down by her fastened seat belt. Ouch.
Fortunately, heavy footsteps scurried forwards and saved the day.
“Whoa, there you go.” said a voice from behind the elderly man.
Mr Lumberjack had caught it before any damage could ensue. Now standing closer, she realised how massive he was. He may not have been the tallest man she’d ever seen, but it hardly mattered with that body, she mused. His shoulders and thick torso appeared wider from her seated position. Looking at him, she couldn’t get over how well groomed he was - clean-shaven, chiselled jaw and a fresh scent of vetiver aftershave. Inhale. Exhale. Was she smelling him now? Yes, she was. So, it was a good thing when the elderly man broke the awkwardness.
“Thanks, son, I appreciate it, I used to have arms like you once..” his voice trailed off.
“Not a worry, sir, always happy to help,” said Lumberjack, he gave her a slight smile and walked off.
How embarrassing, she thought. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her miserable - no, horrific - no, ultra-disastrous-fail at trying to get up with a seat belt fastened. And then there was the sniffing; she rolled her eyes. The chaotic self-deprecating narrative continued its live stream in her thoughts.
“Excuse me, sir, miss?... Hello, my name is Swati. I’m your flight attendant today. As you know, you are seated in an exit aisle. In case of an unforeseen event or an emergency landing, I would like to ask if you would be prepared to operate the door,” she said, her wide grin crinkling the chalky eyeshadow.
“Ma’am, in a seen or unforeseen event, I don’t think I would be prepared. A snail passed by me as I was walking to my seat just now,” he said, proud of his grandad joke.
“No problem, sir, we will arrange another seat for you. We’re at full capacity, so give us a few minutes to find someone to take your seat. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
Text Daren flight details: Checkbox - blank.
Say Guardian Angels prayer: Not in the air yet. So, checkbox - blank.
Procrastinate: Always. Check.
