12:15 am
She went to bed, completely exhausted from dancing at the party, packing, ironing, and being plain old stoked about traveling. With Billie’s last words & a glance from G, she fell asleep. Smiling.
3:14 am
The silence was broken by Jay’s silhouette whispering,
“Yalla, we’re late.” A message now way too familiar to her.
She got ready quickly, and kissed everyone. Amara gave her a 1/2 hug in her sleep.
Jameelah asked her where she was going.
She whispered, ” Spain.”
Jameelah was unmoved by the answer, she gave her her salams, followed by her back, and was fast asleep in a matter of seconds.
Jay was already in the car. They were off to DCA.
5:30 am
“We are now boarding flight 4748 American airlines with service to Kennedy at gate #34“
The click of the intercom signalled her to get moving.
After nervously fumbling with her bag to find her Passport the woman at the gate smiled, while tearing off her boarding pass, and told her she didn’t need it.
Funny. Once you pass security check, anyone could board with your ticket and no one would care if two people swapped destinations.
Looking right and left reading seat & row numbers she found 25C.
A window seat, next to a friendly, relatively attractive, young man.
He was a gentleman about helping put her bags in the overhead compartment. She smiled sheepishly and thanked him. He returned her smile and assured her that it was no problem.
Something about being treated like a lady was so refreshing.
The “fasten your seatbelt” sign lit up with its familiar ding sound.
Probably since she was so used to being one of the guys.
The flight attendant began her well-practiced demonstration of the safety equipment in case of an emergency landing.
That meant they regarded her as a brute -like themselves – she signed off any special privileges other girls enjoyed in their company.
“Please locate the nearest emergency exits…”
The flight to JFK was short. Once the co-pilot announced landing in 15 minutes, the flight attendant was speaking to a passenger about the airport.
“It’s a 45 minute walk to the next terminal, a lot of people don’t make it.” she chirped with an amused tone that seemed slightly sadistic when coupled with her pasted smile and inflated face.
She waited for the people in the front rows to collect their belonging and move towards the door. The gentleman handed her her bags. She smiled and stood in line.
“Thank you for flying with us.” The stewardess repeated like a broken record as people filed out of the plane. when it was her turn She nodded and smiled “Thank you.“
“7:45 is the boarding time for flight AA142 with service to LHR at gate 9,” she read off the screen.
“huh?” She heard someone to her left ask.
The voice belonged to a clean shaved middle eastern man in his late twenties or early thirties. He had his eye brows raised so high they looked like they might come off his forehead. He wore a playful smile and had an energetic presence.
“Nothing, I was just reading out loud,” she replied.
Embarrassed that she had been so careless about her volume.
He repeated after her,
“Gate 9?“
in excellent English. He did have an accent that told that he grew up back home (where ever that might be) and that he was fluent in another language.
She said, “Yes, to London?”
Minutes later, they were walking briskly along reading signs, and talking about anything and everything.
He was confident in his manner, although he used his hands a lot, it was as if he used them to explain anything the listener might have missed; from just listening.
He talked about his new job, thanks to his B.S. in international business, he worked with the coalition forces in Iraq (his homeland). Part of the reconstruction efforts lead by the new government. He used to teach Arabic at a local university as an assistant professor. 32 years old. His eyes were brown, too dark to be hazel but light enough to be brown.
“…that’s a beautiful name. I’m Ali, tsharrafna.” (i.e. Pleasure to meet you).
They found their gate, to their great relief and resorted to a nearby Cafe where he offered to buy her a drink or pastry. She declined the offer and mentioned Starbucks from earlier that morning.
He ordered something to eat and they sat at a table on high bar stools. He was checking his watch when he began to sing. His voice wasn’t half bad, she had to admit.
He smiled and asked her once more if she was sure she didn’t want anything.
“I’m good. Seriously.” She smiled, shying away from his generous eye contact.
His cologne smelled sweet and very fresh. It had a well defined composure to it. Adding to his natural charm and evident class. He was almost done eating when he looked at her and asked what seat she was in.
“38H? Maybe someone will be willing to trade.” He said calmly.
He was a row ahead of her on the other side.
Two gentlemen in one day. She was on a roll.
All she could think of was how glad she was, that in Queens NY, in an airport at 7:39 in the morning
…she was not alone.
