FEAST OF MEN Page 14

  “A very long time, I was in the Marines, but after I found out what they have to do. I got into the Air Force real fast and was sent to Korea. What an awful experience that was. The only memorable aspect of being in Korea was the bathhouses—where you can get a massage. You sit naked on a stool and girls pour warm water all over your body. I’d like to do that to you sometime.”

  A bit embarrassed, “Um, sounds nice. I do enjoy massages. So, it’s possible to go from the Marines into the Air Force just like that? Also, you wear glasses. Didn’t think you could fly a plane, if you need to wear glasses?” He wears funky black rimmed spectacles that give him a fun appearance.

  “When you’ve flown as long as I have and wear glasses—only for a slight correction, you can. I’m going in for a physical tomorrow.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “It’s routine—airline pilots must have regular physicals.”

  “I dated an Air Force Lieutenant in college. Also, my first husband taught flying lessons to help pay his way through college. My father had a company plane. So, I’ve had some experience with pilots and flying. Were you in MAC, SAC or TAC?”

  Surprised by the knowledge of my question, he responds. “I was in TAC.”

  “Technical air command, huh? I’m really feeling thirsty. I need water fast, but I guess I’ll have to wait until we land, now that everyone’s strapped in.”

  “You’re probably dehydrated, going to the restroom so often and do need water. I’ll get you some when we land. Once a flight instructor was giving a training session for flight attendants and I walked into the room just as they were teaching what to do in the case of a hijacking. The instructor asked me to tell the class what to do with the hijacker. What would be the best way to handle the situation, etc.? I said to bring them right into the cockpit with the pilots because they’ll either starve or die of thirst in no time.”

  I laugh, “How funny!” This guy enjoys telling stories and jokes. He’s cute.

  “You see, they rarely get around to taking care of us. The passengers come first, as should be, but we could starve to death or die of dehydration before an attendant would notice. They have a tendency to forget about us. You know, ‘we’ pilots aren’t really that important or necessary.” Laughs sarcastically, “We’re only flying the plane.”

  “I never thought about it that way, always thought pilots were given first class treatment and certainly served first.” This man is certainly impressed with himself that he’s a pilot—too bad, he’s married.

  “No, usually we’re put last.”

  We continue to hold hands even though the turbulence has passed. It’s as if we don’t want to let go of each other for fear it’s not real. It feels as if we’re the only two on the plane and like I’ve sat beside and known this man forever and that all we’re saying to each other, we’ve said before. So familiar, while at the same time exciting and new. Were we together before, perhaps somewhere in another world or lifetime?

  I notice the time and feel a bit of panic. “Hasn’t it been thirty minutes since the pilot last spoke? What if we can’t find a place to land before we run out of fuel?”

  “I bet in just a few minutes, the pilot will announce that we’re being diverted. It’s what I’d do anyway and it’s important for the pilot to keep in contact with his passengers.”

  “I can tell the other passengers are getting nervous also.” As I think—if the plane crashes, runs out of fuel, or whatever—it’s in the plan and God is with me. Meeting this man certainly feels like it was meant to happen. A sometime hesitant flyer being taken care of by a pilot on a turbulent flight—what a perfect plan.

  He assures, “Always know the pilot of an aircraft is taking care of himself as well as all the passengers. If the plane goes down, the pilot goes down, too.” He looks out the window, “It’s clear on that side of the plane and not the other, so most probably we’ll be diverted. The pilot will come on in a minute to tell us that we’ll be diverting to Oklahoma City.”

  Just as these words come out of Boyd’s mouth, the pilot announces. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be diverting to Oklahoma City. Real sorry about the delay and we’ll do what we can to make sure that you’re able to make your connecting flights. This is our only option at this time. We’ll be on the ground shortly.”

  Relieved, I comment, “You certainly called that one.”

  With a pleased expression on his face, “I am glad we’re being diverted because I sure want to be able to spend more time with you. This will give us time to get to know one another.”

  I’m so tired and nervous that I don’t know what to think or to say, so I exclaim. “I’m starving!” As I think—by now, it’s one o’clock. I’ve been up since four with nothing to eat but a banana and my menstrual cramps are beginning again.

  He states, “With the airport being closed, it may take quite a while for us to get into DFW. After we land, I’ll get off the plane and will either bring you a chicken sandwich or maybe, we can rent a car and drive to Dallas. At the very least, I’ll get you something to drink. We’d probably beat the airplane getting there, if we drive. What do you think?”

  I contemplate, okay he’s a Captain with this airline even wearing a uniform, all the employees obviously know him. So, he’s for pretty sure not going to kill or rape me. Besides, I want to spend more time with him. He’s fun. I feel safe with him and I certainly don’t want to be left on this plane all day. Then I answer, “Okay yes, sounds like a plan. I certainly don’t want to sit on the tarmac for hours eating pretzels—so let’s go for it.”

  It’s as if we’re being pulled by some intense electric energy that’s compelling us to be together. The more we talk—the ‘even more right’ being together feels. The plane begins its descent and we continue holding hands.

  I inform, “A friend is picking me up at the airport. I’ll need to give them a call.”

  Uncomfortably he asks, “A friend?”

  “Yes, my friend Maggie is picking me up at DFW.”

  Relieved, “Ah okay, we’ll call her, but I don’t think you’ll be able to get a line out right now because everyone’s trying. Just as he completes saying this, the pilot comes on and announces. “Sorry, if you’re having trouble getting your phone calls out. We’ve only so many lines. With everyone trying to call out at once, it’s overloading the system. Please be patient.” We laugh at the coincidence of their statements.

  After all the turbulence, I am relieved that the landing in Oklahoma City is smoothly uneventful. It’s great to be on the ground, but everyone’s trying to make calls, standing up milling about and distressed about missed meetings and making continuing flights.

  Boyd jumps out of his seat into the aisle. “Off to check things out. See you in a few to let you know what’s happening.” He walks to the front of the aircraft with passengers questioning him along the way.

  To stretch my legs, I walk up and down the aisle. I stay at the back of the plane to chat with other passengers and flight attendants. I am feeling curious about meeting Boyd, while everyone else is tired frustrated and hungry. Passengers are trying to use phones and munching on pretzels—about thirty minutes passes.

  Exiting out of the restroom, I look up to see Boyd at the front of the aircraft. Walking towards our seats, he is continually being side-tracked by questions from frustrated passengers. It’s exciting how our eyes meet from a distance, search about then lock together as we look around the cabin. Sliding into my seat, there’s a bottle of water in front of me. How sweet—he remembered.

  Boyd comes towards me “Got you some water. Couldn’t do any better—can’t bring you something to eat right now because it might upset the other passengers to see an airline employee giving you special treatment—since they are all hungry, too.”

  “Okay, I understand and thank you for the water.”

  “Natalie, after doing some checking, we won’t get into Dallas for hours. There are five planes sitting on the tarmac ahead of us right now. More
planes have been diverted to other airports and they’ll need to land at DFW also. Since the airport’s been closed for quite awhile with all the planes to get in, plus the weather, who knows when this plane will be able to land in Dallas, Besides, I’d love to spend more time with you. Now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to lose you or to mess anything up. Seriously, if I can get a car, do you want to drive with me to Dallas?”

  I respond, “Yes, fine, let’s drive.” As I ponder, why does he keep talking about messing things up?

  He flashes a big smile, “Great. Okay then, I will return after I see what I can do. I’ll either sneak you in a chicken sandwich or have us a car.”

  As he turns to go, I motion for him to come back. He leans over to hear what I’m saying and our cheeks touch—our cheeks pressing against one another feels wonderful, “Please, do bring me a chicken sandwich—sneak one in—I am so awfully hungry.”

  Standing up, he smiles down at me, “I didn’t hear a word you said. I was so enjoying being close to you feeling the warmth of your cheek next to mine.” He smiles warmly then quickly turns to get off the aircraft in search of a car or a chicken sandwich.

  Feeling antsy, I walk up and down the aisle. Lack of sleep and the cramps are catching up with me and what’s happening with Boyd is unbelievable. Is this really happening? This magical feeling between us, but he’s married. Only I can’t worry about it all now. I need to just enjoy the magic of the moment. I nab a blanket and pillow, then put the arm rest down between the seat dividing mine and Boyd’s—take my shoes off. Stretch out, cover up, get cozy, and begin to read the book I have with me. Hunger pains and cramps become indistinguishable. I munch some pretzels and drink the water, Boyd got for me. I feel fortunate to be sprawling in two seats as the space in this plane is closing in quickly.

  I glance up to spy Boyd. I observe the fast and purposeful way he walks. In his uniform, he looks like an action hero coming towards me in a movie such as, ‘Romancing the Stone’. Perhaps, we actually are living an adventure movie.

  With a big warm smile on his face, “Let’s go babe. We’re leaving the aircraft. I’ve got a car. You’re not going to believe this, but checking around, I found an airline employee who needed to have a rental car returned to Dallas.” With enthusiasm, “Of course, I said that I’d do it for her. Now, how amazing is that?” He laughs, “She was only the second person, I asked. Can you believe it? All this is meant to be happening. You still want to drive, right?” He eagerly awaits my answer.

  “Yes, of course.” I want off this airplane badly. I quickly put on my shoes, gather my belongings and get out of my seat. I look up at Boyd, “Will you get my carry-on bag?”

  “Sure, where is it?”

  “In the compartment right over where I was sitting a few rows back.”

  He grabs my bag just as I step into the aisle, then we walk quickly towards the front of the plane, me first with Boyd following and shouting. “Natalie! Natalie! This isn’t like at the terminal. You’re going to need to jump. You’re going to have to jump about six feet onto the stairs. You’ll need to be really careful, honey.”

  “Okay! It’s okay. Don’t worry. I can do it.”

  At the front of the aircraft two pilots are standing by the open door. Passengers are milling about trying to make phone calls. It’s like a disaster movie.

  “Natalie, wait. Let me get down first then jump to me.” Boyd leaps out of the aircraft onto the top of the stairs landing directly in front of me. I am faintly aware of the pilots of the plane, offering, “Can we help you, ma’am?”

  I respond, “No, thanks, I’m fine.” Looking down, I see Boyd on the steps below gazing up at me.

  “Natalie, jump! I’ll catch you. Jump into my arms.”

  The wind howls as Boyd smiles and holds up his arms. I look down at him and take the leap. I jump right into his arms. I bend my knees to land then immediately stand. Glancing up, I run down the steps. As the wind and rain whips around me, I run to the waiting van. “Wow, it’s cold, but this is so much fun!”

  Safely tucked in next to Boyd in the back seat of the van, the other pilots and airline personnel assess the situation. The door to the van’s open and I’m freezing. Dressed for the warm weather in LA, I’m wearing black stirrup-pants, a white short-sleeved cotton turtleneck and a light-weight white leather Calvin Klein jacket with black Ferragamo flats and no hose. Perfect for Manhattan Beach, but certainly not enough for this cold Oklahoma weather and I’m frosting over fast.

  “Boyd, will we be able to get our luggage?”

  He chuckles, “No, no one will want to go through the luggage compartment to find your suitcase.”

  “There’s a sweater in my suitcase that I’d sure love to have on right now.”

  He chuckles, “Cold, huh?”

  I laugh as I shiver, “Freezing!”

  He takes off his airline jacket and puts it around my shoulders.

  “Thank you, but...”

  Then he immediately resumes talking to the pilots who are standing outside the van. Therefore, my protest goes unheard. “Boyd, but then you’ll be cold.” I observe, he’s in short shirt sleeves but not seeming to notice the cold. A disgruntled man is hanging out the doorway of the airplane on his cell phone and five other planes are in the same predicament. Boyd says he once ordered a bunch of pizzas and had them delivered to the airplane in a similar circumstance. “A big hit with the passengers—kept them happy for awhile and made things a bit more bearable.” Pilots respond, “A good idea because by the end of this day, these people are going to be exhausted.”

  Clearly the pilots and other airline personnel respect Boyd. Finally, the van drives away and I feel happy and more than content sitting close to this man. It’s the warmest and best feeling that I’ve felt in a long time and it’s as if I belong beside him. Boyd chats with other airline personnel as we walk quickly towards the terminal. Peculiar, it’s as if everyone’s looking at us, while I am frantically trying to locate the door to see how to enter the building. Is it camouflaged or something? The wind’s blowing wildly and it’s raining making it impossible to see. I silently plea, please, let me get into the terminal quickly before I am frozen solid. Just as I’m thinking this, Boyd reaches out to open the door and we quickly traverse up the backstairs through the gate to the main floor. We laugh together in delight because we are so relieved to be inside.

  We talk as fast as we walk. “When I went back aboard the plane, the pilots asked. ‘Oh, no, don’t tell us, you’re taking a passenger off the plane?’ I answered. Just wait until you see how pretty she is.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “After seeing you, they nodded in agreement, ‘Yes, she’s pretty all right.’ Did you notice them at the front of the plane?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “They were the pilots who flew the plane.”

  “So, do you do this often—take passengers off airplanes?”

  “No, absolutely never, I meet people on planes and talk. Girls come onto me because of the uniform, but like this with us—Natalie, never. This magic has ever happened to me ever before in my life.”

  I laugh, “Well, I’ve never even been diverted.”

  We glance at one another though big smiles as we walk rapidly through the airport towards the rental car area. Our quick paced walking movements flow together perfectly. In unison, we move fast and purposefully. I feel as if I’m in a dream or something magically and wonderfully out of this world. Exhausted and walking through the Oklahoma airport terminal with a pilot that I just met on this magically crazy day.

  At the entrance of the airport, I turn to Boyd. “You’re not going to believe this but I need to run into the restroom before we go.”

  “Again, but okay fine—I will get the car. Meet you out front.”

  “The worst thing, a flyer can do is to try to

  catch the catcher.

  A flyer must fly, and a catcher must catch,

  and the flyer must trust, with outstr
etched arms,

  that the catcher will be there.”

  THE CAR

  Coming out of a restroom for what seems like the millionth time, I scurry to the front of the airport. It feels great to be on solid ground. I breathe in the fresh air as the coolness refreshes. Boyd’s already in the car. He opens the car door for me from inside the car. I slide in and he leans out his car window to talk with the ‘rental car’ woman to receive instructions as to where to leave the car after getting to Dallas.

  Now that I’m more down to earth I contemplate in review. Okay, I’m out of the plane and safely on the ground. I hope it won’t be too weird to ride to Dallas with a man, I barely know. Interesting how, I’m compelled to be with him. This isn’t like me, but I feel comfortable even cozy and safe being with him. Why do I feel this way and so quickly? This has never happened to me before. I’ve been alone for years with little attraction to anyone then take a chance and visit David in California and then now this.

  Geez, what if he’s the only axe-murderer, rapist, airline Captain there is and I’m in for an even wilder time than even on the plane. A pilot who roams airplanes wearing his uniform searching for his next victim—except, it’s too late for me now. I’m so terribly tired from lack of sleep and hunger that I’ll not even put up much of a fight—I chuckle, oh, well, he’s cute, so what a way to go. Geez, I must be delirious.

  Boyd rolls up the window then turns to me. “I hope, I didn’t force you to decide too quickly to ride with me to Dallas. The decision was made awfully fast. So, I hope you don’t feel now that you’ve made a mistake. You look a bit concerned.”

  Man, can this guy read me, “No, I’m fine. Just tired and I am glad we decided to drive. I’d have gone nuts sitting in that airplane for hours eating pretzels. Besides, it’ll be fun driving to Dallas. You’re fun and I enjoy your company.”