FEAST OF MEN Read online

  After checking in, I take a seat and chat with a man telling him about the book research that I’m beginning. He tells me about his children—as I reflect about how shy I was as a child and that now how I enjoy talking to almost everyone.

  Just before time to board the plane, I stand up to stretch and look around. At the check-in counter, are some airline personnel chatting. The same pilot who was walking behind me, smiles then winks at me. I turn my back to him as I think, geez, what a flirt. Besides, I can’t stand a man who winks. I wonder is he the pilot that will fly the plane. I turn around again to look. Um, kind of cute, I like his hair, silver—white or perhaps blond—anyway lots of hair full of light colors and kind of wild. He smiles again. Being polite, I smile back. Our eyes meet as I affirm—I bet, he comes onto lots of girls. Looks like a dashing adventure hero-type—tall—great hair—nice smile and in good physical condition—a Lloyd Bridges look alike, just the kind of guy you’d imagine would be flying a plane.

  Moving towards the entrance, I recall the fear that I once had boarding a plane—needing to take a valium, even as I hate to take drugs. Apprehension created in me during a turbulent flight while visiting my college boyfriend. I promised myself, if I ever got off that plane that I’d never fly again. It took years to overcome, but now I love to fly. It feels as if I’m in a safe cocoon above the earth floating in the clouds, but I still get uneasy whenever there’s turbulence. I hope, I sit next to someone nice just in case, I need to grab their hand if the plane rocks and rolls.

  Damn, I’m beginning to have menstrual cramps again. Maybe, I can sleep all the way home. That long going nowhere conversation in the car exhausted me. My hair’s filthy and this pimple on my nose is irritating. Hormones are blazing. So, what and who cares? Anyone, I meet today. I’ll never see again. So, I’ll just relax on my way back to Texas. Glad that I scheduled my first appointment later in the day tomorrow because I desperately need to sleep.

  “Don’t lose time in conflict;

  lose no time in doubt

  time can never be recovered

  and if you miss an opportunity

  it may take many lifetimes

  before another comes your way again.”

  SEIZE THE MOMENT

  ‘Airplane’

  October 21

  After putting my carry-on in the compartment above, I slip into an aisle seat. A man sits next to me in the middle seat and a lady by the window.

  I inquire of the man, “How are you this morning?”

  “Great, just flew in from Hawaii.”

  “Hawaii’s beautiful. Did you have a good time?”

  “Wonderful, but we’ve had no sleep and are ready to get home.”

  “Me too.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “Visiting a friend in LA.”

  “Good time?”

  “Fun, but no sleep and like you, I am ready to get home.”

  A jovial atmosphere is about the plane with many people flying home from their Hawaiian vacations. Will I ever go on a ‘real vacation’ again? After this last divorce, all I’ve done is work and worry. How great would it be to go on a vacation with a man I love—somewhere wonderful like Hawaii?

  The plane takes off as I chat with the couple beside me. Flight attendants serve breakfast, but I barely eat anything. My stomach’s still cramping and I go to the restroom repeatedly. Airplanes always do this to me—must be the cabin pressure. I am so looking forward to being home.

  The lady sitting beside the window drinks Diet Dr. Pepper in the morning instead of coffee—like I do. Never met anyone else who does this and the man in the middle laughs, while listening to our conversation. He comments that it’s worth the airplane ride just to hear us. He must live a boring life to be so easily amused.

  They begin to watch the in-flight movie. After all the movies, I watched with David, I’ve no desire to see another. I glance up to notice that it’s the one with Whoopi Goldberg and basketball players. I think she’s a basketball coach or some such.

  I look around the plane to notice the ‘winking’ pilot sitting about five rows in front of me on the left side of the aisle. He continually turns around looking towards the back of the plane. Cute, how his hair sticks out all over. Must be looking back at the flight attendants, he smiles and I smile back. He reminds me of someone, but whom? Oh, I know my gynecologist—another raging playboy. One of those men who know they’re attractive with great hair, an enticing smile and a bit of style—that lethal combination with no ability to commit to love.

  The winking pilot walks to the back of the plane passing by my seat several times. Why is he in his uniform and not flying the plane—must be dead-heading it back. In a few minutes, he passes by me again walking back to his seat. He strolls as if he thinks he’s really something, smiling at everyone as if they are his audience. Some pilots must feel as if they own the sky wearing their uniforms, greeting passengers while having so much power and responsibility. Well, while we’re in an airplane, we are in their hands and this is exactly why I don’t like to fly because I’m not in control.

  Although since studying and living in spirituality, I have less fear about not being in control—really less fear about everything. I’ve come to accept that there’s a plan and nothing is by accident. So, it’s better to relax, be in the moment and just go with the flow, instead of fighting to control. Easy to say, I know and realize, while more difficult to live. But it does seem to be getting easier even as my obstacles become more challenging. I’m more able to allow the universe, God, my angels, guides or whomever it is that guides and encourages me along in my life’s experiences—hopefully towards my destiny.

  I observe the back of the winking pilot’s head. Yes, those pilots do symbolically rule the sky. No wonder, some of them carry such arrogance and this one certainly does. I’ve never had much attraction to men in uniform. A uniform’s only as good as the man wearing it.

  Anyway, I’m giving up men totally. I’ll keep a few as friends, but that’s it. Occasionally, we’ll go out to dinner and perhaps a movie. Share hugs, but that’s it! I’ll become more of a recluse. Then be found dead and alone in my old age with books piled around me My epitaph will read, ‘She died, as she lived alone and without sex. Or—she died from sex deprivation.’

  The Diet Dr. Pepper drinking lady by the window motions for me to watch a particular part in the movie. A horse is on a basketball court wearing basketball shoes, I involuntarily laugh.

  The pilot turns around and smiles again. Geez, he turns around a lot. Moments later, he gets up again and walks towards the back of the plane, while maintaining eye contact with me all the way. As he walks towards me, I fantasize, ‘Must be that he’s on duty, policing the plane and there’s a hijacker on board. That’s why he keeps going to the back.’ Then I catch my thoughts. I must be so tired that I’m hallucinating.

  Startling me, the pilot kneels down in the aisle right by my seat then with a large smile and in a Southern drawl asks, “Are you from LA?” I laugh silently in my twisted humor. Um, he must think I’m the hijacker. The winking pilot continues looking up at me talking all Southern and gentlemanly like. “You look like someone I used to know who lived in LA. I just wanted to see if you were her.”

  I think, what an overused line, but I look down at him then answer, “I live in Dallas—actually, just outside of Dallas and you look a bit familiar also.”

  The pilot looks up at me with his eyes locked into mine. “Oh really, well, I’ve got an empty seat beside me. Since everyone else is watching the movie, would you like to sit with me and we can chat? I’d love to talk more with you, but can’t stay here kneeling in this aisle.”

  I respond, “Okay—why not, since everyone else is watching the movie.” As I think—nice brown eyes, appears a bit overconfident, but a Southern gentleman, besides I’m bored and can’t seem to sleep. So, talking with him might be a distraction to pass the time. I get up and follow him to where he’s sitting.

  He ha
s an aisle seat. There’s a woman by the window. So, I slide into the middle seat then look back. The lady where I was sitting is yelling and motioning, but I can’t hear her. So, the gallant pilot goes back to retrieve both my water and Diet Dr. Pepper. Apparently, the lady couldn’t get out of her seat with my tray table down. I didn’t bring anything with me because I thought I’d only visit with the winking pilot for a short while.

  The pilot puts my tray table down and places my drinks on it.

  I comment, “Look at all this stuff I’m drinking while going to the bathroom continually—stupid, huh?”

  He laughs wearing a big smile, “I’m Boyd Ashford.

  “Nice to meet you, I’m Natalie Duncan.”

  “It’s great to meet you. I spotted you in the airport, couldn’t keep my eyes off of you, even followed you onto the airplane. Did you notice me?”

  I respond in surprise, “You did? I didn’t notice, but I did notice a pilot standing at the check-in desk, and wondered if he was going to fly the plane.”

  Excited, “That was me. I went over to where they were taking tickets to see if I could get your attention. Did you notice me then?”

  “Not really, no, not you specifically—I didn’t.”

  “Then I followed you, watched you board the plane, thinking that’s one pretty girl. Did you notice me winking at you?”

  “Yes, I did notice a pilot winking—that was you?” as I think, ask a winking man what they have in their eye and they’ll respond ‘you’, it’s so obviously banal. “Why’d you wink?”

  “I wanted to get your attention and made the decision, if you smiled at me the next time I turned around, I’d introduce myself. And you did, you smiled at me.” His is voice full of excitement.

  “I smile at most everyone.”

  “Well, I noticed you in the airport—couldn’t keep my eyes off you. I’ve been watching you for quite a while. Actually, you captured my attention when you entered the airport. I followed you all the way to the gate. Realizing we were going to the same gate. I knew it was fate. I hope you don’t mind me complimenting you, but you have an incredible rear end. You must workout. I thought that girl’s in great shape and has a lot of self-confidence to wear those pants. They look great on you by the way.”

  “Well, thank you and I do workout.” As I think—what a pick-up jock, I ought to slap him for talking about my rear end, but instead I keep talking.

  “Where do you work out?”

  “Goodbody’s and right now I am doing spinning. Heard of it?”

  “No, but I run and play racquetball. Do you play?”

  “No, but I played tennis years ago, aren’t they similar?”

  “Yes, only racquetball is much faster. I’ve been playing lots lately and was recently in fierce competition with a friend and kept pushing myself until I hurt my shoulder. I let my ambition get the better of me and now am paying for it. I tend to be very competitive.” adjusts his shoulder to further his point, “I’m going to have to lay off playing for a while, so my shoulder can heal.”

  “Too bad, does it hurt much?”

  “Sometimes and it’s really bothering me today.”

  “I’ve had a couple of sports related injuries, especially when I used to dance. So, I understand how they can hurt. You might want to try spinning on a bike while your shoulder’s healing. I also do bench stepping and lift free weights. I must be physically active to feel good, perhaps because I used to be a ballet dancer.”

  “I love the ballet and take my daughter. Her recital was so cute. She’s really not much into dancing, but does make sure she knows all the steps and that she’s standing in the correct place. I love to watch ballet because it’s so beautiful.”

  “I used to teach ballet.”

  “Really?”

  “But what I really like to do is to snow ski. I haven’t been all that often, but I love the atmosphere in the mountains and the ski resorts. After skiing for a few days, I catch on quickly and start to really feel in the flow of the movements with the mountain and boy, does it feel good. If I ever had the opportunity to ski on a regular basis, I bet I’d become fairly good. Being on a ski lift, looking out over mountains exhilarates me. Feels like Heaven and I feel closer to God and my spirit soars. Do you ski?”

  “Yes, I have and yes, I like it, but the older I get the more I gravitate to the warmer climates. Cold weather gets to me now—makes my bones and joints ache—old age catching up.”

  “I have arthritis in my thumb joint and in the cold it sometimes acts up. So, you have children? You mentioned taking your daughter to the ballet?”

  “Yes, a girl nine, her name is Natasha and a son six. From a first marriage, I have two older sons living in Seattle.”

  “Lots of children, huh?” I think—Natalie/Natasha—interesting, then say, “Natasha is Natalie in Russian.”

  “Yes, I know. I picked up on that immediately. Yes—lots of children. Do you have any?”

  “No, I am divorced—no children. Never was the right time or man to have children. Guess, I was smart and lucky enough to figure out that a child would make a bad marriage worse. I do love children though and they tend to gravitate to me. Perhaps, I’ll be lucky and become a step-grandmother. It’d be one better than being a step-mom—one step more removed. You know, give the child lots of attention and then promptly return it to their parents. I had a stepdaughter in my last marriage. We became close but the turmoil between her parents was awful.”

  Tiredness creeps in and I reach my arms out in front of me to stretch. Boyd catches me out of the corner of his eye. Embarrassed, that he’s watching. I do a funky kind of dancing thing with my arms as I bring them back into my lap.

  “Wow, you have a cute personality and are sometimes such a little girl.”

  Laughing, “Yes, I definitely have that aspect. I enjoy having fun and enjoy the child in me.”

  “Too bad, you didn’t have kids. You’d have made a great mom.”

  “Um, you think so? Maybe, once upon a time ago—occasionally, I do work with children who have learning disabilities and do volunteer work. I make a good part time friend to kids. I seem to have an ability to understand and communicate well with them, but don’t like having children or people around me constantly. I require lots of solitude and kids are so demanding—so I like to have them in my life occasionally, but not continually. One of the books I’m writing is a healing book for children and adults to help assist in releasing limiting beliefs. So, you’re married?”

  “Well separated, I plan on being out of my marriage in April. I’m staying through Christmas to spend the holidays with my children. In March, I’m going to Atlanta, to learn to fly L10-11’s. After that, I plan to be out of the marriage. It hasn’t been working for quite a while, even since before my last son was born. I’m a Captain with this airline and will retire in six years. By flying L10-11’s, I’ll fly internationally. It’ll be a step down in rank but a step up in aircraft, until I work my way back up again. After retiring, I’m contemplating becoming a lawyer. I want to work in airline negotiations because I’ve been involved in enough of them.”

  “Really, how old are you?” as I think, after my horrible experiences with attorneys, I’ve nothing positive to say—except an airline attorney, perhaps that’s not too bad.

  “Turned fifty-four on Saturday, the day I flew out of Dallas to make this trip, October 19th.”

  “Well, Happy Birthday!” Except for his silver, white or whatever color his hair is, he sure looks young to be fifty-four. Actually, his hair doesn’t make him look older but more interesting—almost as if he’s had a great color job. “You don’t look fifty-four and too bad you left on your birthday?”

  “Thank you for saying that, but like I said the marriage is over. It meant nothing to spend the day with her. My kids gave me their gifts and we had cake together before I left—that was enough.”

  “Interesting, I left on the same day.”

  “Really, why were you in LA?”


  “Visiting a friend,” then for some reason, I pull David’s photo out of my purse. “Here’s a photo of the friend that I was visiting. He’s holding two huge crabs while he was in Alaska.”

  He glances at the photo, unimpressed then responds in a negative tone. “Um, he’s got long hair. You have beautiful dark eyes and a great smile—a really great smile.”

  I respond, “Thank you, but my eyes must look awful because I only got about two hours sleep last night.”

  “I hate to think about what you were doing last night—not to get any sleep.”

  “No, oh no, we were watching movies and talking. David’s just a good friend.” I notice Boyd’s hands, um, nice hands. I comment, “That looks like a wedding ring on your finger?”

  “It’s just a ring.”

  Sarcastically I laugh, “Yeah, right?”

  “Well yes, okay it’s a wedding ring, but it doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. It’s just a ring now.”

  “Then why do you still wear it? Have you filed for divorce?”

  “I wear it because I like the ring and for the kids. Absolutely, I’ve filed for divorce.”

  Sarcastically, “Umm, right!”

  “Honest, I’m planning on being out of my marriage in April. May I call you then? May I call you in April after I’m out of the marriage? Should I wait until then to call you? I really want to get to know you.”

  “Well, I don’t know.” I think, at least, he asked to wait until April to call. Except I don’t know about this guy. If he’s still married, why’s he winking at girls and following them onto airplanes? Why would I even want him to call? Anyway, April’s a long way off—six months or so.

  “I just don’t want to mess this up. Meeting you, I sure don’t want to mess it up. Wish I hadn’t met you until April. I met you too soon. When I noticed you across the room, I thought that ring on your finger was a wedding ring and my heart sank.”

  I ponder, too soon for what then state, “It was the setting from my wedding ring, but I took the diamond out and sold it to pay the taxes on my house. Then I put the pearl from a ring that my father gave me when I was sixteen in its place. I like the setting because I designed the ring.”