Flight 880 Has Arrived

*Rough Draft

The seat I sat in sank me back. Thankfully, I caught myself on the arm of the chair, and laughed a bit through my nervous frame of mind. I began to wonder exactly who these airport seats had been made for. What was it? Were many of the travelers that ventured through this Midwest airport blessed with wide ends, hips that fit comfortable and had less fear of sliding back as they did getting out. I tried to keep my bare skin from sticking to the seat, so I pulled at my skirt, wiggling just right so as not to give the coffee attendant at Starbucks a show.

I composed myself and smiled, thinking, "he could see me at any moment. I feel silly."

I wasn't even sure I was in the right terminal. I was somewhere in between.

There was so much hustle and bustle going on around me that it was a wonder I felt nervous at all. Who would notice me in this crowded airport, on a Friday afternoon no less? He'd notice me. That's what mattered the most and though he knew every inch of me, I still didn't want him to see me, slinking back in an over sized, impossible to get out of like a lady, chair.

And so I sat, taking out a literary magazine I had brought for entertainment, nerve support, a protector to tell other folks I wasn't willing to chat. I heard a woman's voice over the intercom, something about this flight arriving and this flight going somewhere, I wasn't really sure of the details, but it was something like that. I started reading my first article, having this feeling that someone was watching me though knowing, I was an immobile ant in a hurried ant race.

I read, one article down. I became restless. I looked at the cell phone which I rested on the top of my purse beside me. He was going to call. He didn't know what terminal to meet me at, but he was gonna call.

I was too restless. My nerves were urging me to move. So I slid to the edge of the seat and stood, making sure I was all in tack. The terminal was quiet for a while. I could hear the click of my own heels on the floor. I was surprised by the echo of silence as I was sure I would be bombarded by travelers real soon. I watched as they walk and talked. They didn't move as if they cared for anyone to be in their way. I was sure they'd mow me down without another thought, less I snag their precious suitcase as they passed over my back. I wasn't sure what to make of the airport. I wasn't a "frequent flyer", hell, I wasn't a flyer at all. When was the last time I flew? Oh, that's right, I was an infant, and experiences as an infant don't really count, give or take a few.

I walked to and fro, wondering if I should have brought a pack of smokes, something to keep my hands busy, keep me busy. There were areas outside to smoke, designated spots right outside the door, which I couldn't really understand. Smoke travels, doesn't it? It was a nice day, I could have gone for a smoke. Nah, I was likely too nervous to smoke properly anyway. Likely would have made myself light headed. Then he'd really think me to be the "most beautiful woman" in the world, well, at least most beautiful one laying on the ground.

I found another seat, in an empty part of the terminal. Once again I sank into that great airport chair. I looked at the cellphone in my hand, waiting for it to ring. He was gonna call me when he was in. That's what he had said.

It was cold! I shivered. I wasn't wearing much to keep warm. Just a dark denim skirt and a yellow tank top. My hair tickled my shoulders, intensifying the chill and I shuddered even more. If I wasn't about to see him at any moment, I'd throw it up into a pony tail and be done with it already.

I opened my magazine, but that didn't stop me from looking around. All the bustle was now at the other end by the ticket counter and sports bar, the CNBC store with magazines, and the Starbucks with their line of customers. I didn't care about them, I was looking for him.

A group of men started coming from the left of me. Middle aged business men I could clearly tell, or greatly assumed, I wasn't sure just made the best guess I could. Click click...click click...duh dunt...duh dunt...I became memorized with the sound. One of the men's suitcase was clacking against the floor as he leisurely pulled it. I wouldn't have found this funny, but as the men continued, the sound intensified. I laughed as his recognition of this and I imagined he noticed that it echoed off the walls and had in fact caught my attention, which I snickered at.

Man! I was freezing, shivering more by now. The distracting sound took my attention off the air conditioning vent, which was blasting me from across the way. The phone rang. I shot up.

"Hello..." Oh, that voice. "I am in terminal B...what flight were you on...880...okay..."

I headed towards a map of the airport.

"So you're in terminal C. Do you want me to come to you?.....Okay, I am by gate 77...right in the middle of the terminal...okay...I love you."

I closed the phone and put it snug in my purse.

When will I see your face again? Soon, I will see it soon. What will I say? Please God, give me the gift of speech, don't let me ramble like an idiot. Let me be able to kiss this man without accidentally smacking into his face.

I saw a few of the colors I recognized, men walking around in uniform, but they were men I hadn't seen a day in my life. Other soldiers that I hadn't any connection to, but through my husband's job. My heart raced...then slowed...then raced at the thought of my husband being close to me already.

Again, I sank back into a chair.

I waited. I read more of my magazine. I observed a middle aged business man, about in his late thirties start up a conversation with a woman about her Sudoku game book. She was a pretty blond. I smiled at this scene beside me, knowing I didn't have to resort to small talk with the opposite sex to gain more of their time.

"Do you want a page?"
"No, thank you." He turns her down so polite, as if to imply he doesn't want to be a bother.
"Are you sure?"
He almost turns her down again, but something changes his mind. "Yeah, I'll take a page."

"Is this seat taken?" And that's when the scene became unimportant.

I smiled instantly and turned towards my right. I shot up, caring little about how proper or how graceful I looked. "Stand up," I said to my husband. Let everyone see this scene, I didn't care, I wanted to be in his arms.

It had been eleven months, nearly five days, and too many hours since I had last been held by my husband. Every ounce of excitement that you feel as a child on Christmas is multiplied. Every crush you've ever had and thought meant the world to you, is like a speck of dust. They say, not knowing who, that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Now intensify this by the multitude of experiences you've gone through together. Imagine in that moment that you've met each other for the first moment only to find, you're closer than you ever thought.

Ladies and gentlemen, flight 880 has arrived.