“It’s been over an hour, I don’t understand what is taking so long.”
I was woken up by the voice. It came from two rows over.
We had been on the aircraft for over an hour now. I had dozed off in between while waiting for something to happen.
The flight was from Chicago to Bombay with a stopover in London. Here we were in London, This pretty lady and me were the only two passengers left on the plane.
I remember seeing her in at the waiting area at the gate, reading and again as we got on the plane. She wore a white shirt and a skirt that seemed to sway just above the floor as she got up and wheeled her bag and a blue jacket placed precariously on it.
“It’s been over an hour, what’s going on?” She asked the stewardess again.
“Mme. The Heathrow workers union is on strike, they are working on resolving the issue. That’s all the information we have right now” replied the stewardess.
The Woman now turned to me including me in the conversation as she asked the stewardess “Wow, how long do you think it would take.”
“No idea Mme. but it shouldn’t be too long before we take off”
20 minutes later we were taken off the plane and ushered into a waiting area, which was filled with passengers who seemed to have been taken of their respective aircrafts and looked like they had been waiting longer than we had.
They formed little mobs of threes and fours around the reps from the airlines they were against one wall of the waiting area.
People had settle into the waiting quite well. Some read, some talked while some walked around trying to find out more.
The transit passengers from my flight were the smallest group. There were just four of us. We settled into a corner of the room overlooking the runway. There was the lady with the blue jacket, an elderly American couple and me.
We got to talking, the couple The Petersen’s were going to be staying in Bombay for a two days and then on to Goa where they would be meeting some friends.
Blue jacket was Ahvan, she was traveling back home like me.
I hadn’t been to Bombay in 7 years. I remember the day I left it was raining. And even though I had protested and had managed to keep everyone away. Carl would have nothing of it and showed up when I was leaving to take me to the airport. Our ride was quite and knowing. We had known each other since we were nine and there we were not knowing when we would me meeting again.
He had called a month ago. We had been emailing each other but his call was out of the blue. He was getting married. He asked me whether I could make it. “You promised you’d be the best man remember?? Of course we were 14 and drunk but I’m going to hold you to it.” He chuckled.
And so here I was. I had a week before the wedding to catch up with the rest of the bunch.
While I had been reminiscing about the gang the Petersen’s seemed to have started a party. They were dancing to music from a little player they had with them.
I watched this elderly couple dance to a backdrop of an empty runway and its stationary aircrafts.
Some people joined in. They were enjoying themselves. Now Mrs. Petersen was showing an interested couple a few steps while Mr. Petersen had asked Ahvan to join him.
She watched her feet for a bit but soon found her way and they were off. They danced for a while. Then when the next song came on Mrs Petersen had wanted to cut back in.
Ahvan wasn’t done yet. She turned around looking for someone and spotted me watching her. Smiled and held out her hand. Now I’m not one to dance but her charming smile got the better of me.
I knew the song. “I’ve got you under my skin” sung by Frank Sinatra.
And as the second verse was playing my two left feet and me had stopped arguing.
”I’ve tried so not to give inI’ve said to myself this affair never will go so wellBut why should I try to resist, when baby will I know than wellThat I’ve got you under my skin”
I was beginning to enjoy myself.
“You have done this before, haven’t you??”
“Yes“…I lied…I think she knew.
Then tempo moved up.
“In spite of a warning voice that comes in the nightAnd repeats, repeats in my ear””Don’t you know you fool, you never can winUse your mentality, wake up to realityBut each time I do, just the thought of youMakes me stop before I begin’cause I’ve got you under my skin”And then I twirled her around and was catching my breath.
The next one was “I wont dance”…
“So what are you heading to Bombay for??” She asked as we continued on
“A friends wedding…you??”
“Just a vacation”…She replied. “I was here last year and am now thinking of maybe moving back.”
Now “cheek to cheek” had begun to play
“come on and dance with meI want my arm about youThat charm about youWill carry me through...”
“Right up to heaven, I’m in heavenAnd my heart beats so that I can hardly speakAnd I seem to find that happiness I seekWhen we’re out together dancing, out together dancing. Out together dancing cheek to cheek.”And after that big finish I was beginning to get tired.
We walked back to where our bags were with her blue jacket; I had my hand at the small of her back. Removing it as soon as I thought of it.
We sat down and watched the Petersen’s. Some passengers had stopped watching them as if giving them a bit privacy in this crowded waiting area and some like Ahvan and me watched in absolute awe.
“They are beautiful together aren’t they”
I nodded in reply.
Ahvan and me swapped stories.
Work, life the usual things nothing serious yet it seemed to be.
I was doing okay…She was laughing at my jokes. I was being my charming self.
I wonder if it was Frankie or me but all in all I seemed to be doing okay.
I recognized the distinctive intro and was about to mention it. When she beat me to it….
“I love this song”…. It was ”Fly me to the moon”.
So she yanked me back towards the Petersen’s.
Now dancing is a dangerous thing. Especially when its to your favorite song .
Its leaves you with memories, very distinctive memories. Why do you think they do it at weddings.
Brides and Bridegrooms are fine…they then go on to build on those memories but here in the waiting area of an airport. It was impulsive, sure the dancing was slow now but the idea was hasty. Point being it wasn’t me but then again not being me was having its benefits.
That’s when we heard the announcement. We were to head to gate 24. The strike was resolved. A cheer went up in the crowd and a tremendous sigh came over me. We talked all the way there. Pretty soon we were back on the plane. I found my pillows the same way I left them. Turning over to watch Ahvan put her luggage in the overhead bin.
Settling into my seat I thought over the events of the past two hours. Smiling to myself.
The stewardess said, “Excuse me” and I turned to see Ahvan with her bag.
Controlling my enthusiasm but still smiling. I got up and stowed her bag away.
We went on talking, all through the flight and all through immigration and to the exit.
We said our goodbyes, swapped email address.
“So seeya I guess,” she said. Waiting for me to make a move.
Thinking what would Frankie would do.
I went ahead and kissed her on the cheek.
She walked away slow …I walked out of the airport with lots on my mind
Heard Carl’s voice yelling “Hey hey hey”
I received the biggest bear hug from a pot bellied Carl.
After a few jokes about pot bellies and receding hairlines. we walked towards his car.
He chuckled “Dude you look a little bleary eyed? …”Heard about the strike and all, was the wait too long.”
“Nah!”…I replied “Wasn’t too bad, they served us champagne when we got back on the aircraft.” I heard the chink of the champagne flutes.
“Dude” I said settling into the passenger seat and about to close the door…. “I have to tell you a fantastic story.”
