Airport Infatuation
Baggage claim. Wife and I waiting on either side, doubling our chance to grab her luggage. Next to me stands the most stunning young lady I Have Ever Seen In My Life. Perhaps late teens or early 20's at most. Probably her sibling standing with her. Obviously not her husband or boyfriend. Not a bit of amorous expression. She is oblivious to my gasping for air. Swooning. Almost panicking.
As bags slowly drop onto the carousel, I am struck by her blonde hair, radiant face, unassuming demeanor. She is completely unaware of her beauty and totally unaffected. A fair angel with soft eyes who I want to possess completely.
I don't dare draw attention to myself, much less speak to her. What would I say? I love you. Please spend the rest of your life with me.
Time is of the essence now, as more and more luggage crowds the conveyor. Wait! I've got it! My camera, get my camera! I can at least take her picture and then secretly worship her forever.
I frantically search my pockets, to no avail. More panic sets in. Urgency! My mind is in knots. Think, man, where is the damn camera?
Oh. My wife took it with her on her trip. I'll just slip on over and ask her if I can use it.
Sure, she says, but doesn't hand it over. She looks at me, sensing the desperation in my pleading eyes; cocking her head, trying as usual to make some sense of her crazy-ass husband.
It's in my luggage, she explains, as our eyes turn towards the bags making their way around, waiting to be claimed.
As bags slowly drop onto the carousel, I am struck by her blonde hair, radiant face, unassuming demeanor. She is completely unaware of her beauty and totally unaffected. A fair angel with soft eyes who I want to possess completely.
I don't dare draw attention to myself, much less speak to her. What would I say? I love you. Please spend the rest of your life with me.
Time is of the essence now, as more and more luggage crowds the conveyor. Wait! I've got it! My camera, get my camera! I can at least take her picture and then secretly worship her forever.
I frantically search my pockets, to no avail. More panic sets in. Urgency! My mind is in knots. Think, man, where is the damn camera?
Oh. My wife took it with her on her trip. I'll just slip on over and ask her if I can use it.
Sure, she says, but doesn't hand it over. She looks at me, sensing the desperation in my pleading eyes; cocking her head, trying as usual to make some sense of her crazy-ass husband.
It's in my luggage, she explains, as our eyes turn towards the bags making their way around, waiting to be claimed.
10 years ago
