Melbourne bound

 It was a long flight from Paris to Melbourne but the thought of a dive in the Australian waters had Anders giddy with joy. He was at the airport 3 hours early. Zero percent chance of missing his plane with the added benefit of airport people watching. A lost pastime he usually thought. He strutted to his gate while listening to the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack on his brand new sound canceling headphones. He had bought them just for this trip. Once he confirmed his gate existed he sauntered to a nearby airport bar that had out-facing little tables. 

He was careful of a beverage choice. He’d really wanted an icy coke, something hard to find in Paris but easier in the airport, but thought that the carbonation would be risky with an upcoming flight. Anders was always trying to mitigate future failings. He was proud to be anal when it counted, like on vacation. He decided on a gimlet. This way he’d feel sophisticated and old world enough to fully immerse himself in the people watching hobby. 

He ordered two more gimlets anca small personal pizza while watching fashionistas, families, potential spies, the lost, successful (and not) businesspeople. People wearing formal clothes and people barely wearing pijamas. It was close to boarding time when he noticed a petit air hostess come into the bar. She looked tired from her posture. Her shoulders hugging her and her head seems to want to collapse into a soft sleep. There was nothing remarkable about her, yet Anders couldn’t look away. He was interested in her story. Her dress was a little loose around her body, she walked slowly but very lightly. Like a ballerina on slow motion. Her hair was on a bun held by itself. It was the color of a light roasted and heavily milked cappuccino. She asked for a small beer, a heifeweizen. Her voice was low but sweet, with a bit of a rasp, her accent revealed she was not French. She looked for a table but all were taken. In a bold move (vacation Anders!) he caught her eye and extended his had inviting her to his table. She graciously accepted. 

“Merci, merci” she said as she walked to his table. She seemed equally in a hurry and lost in time. As she arrived to the table, her smart and sleek carry-on caught the edge of the table leg, tumbling over and causing her to lose her balance. As she fell she managed to place her beer on the table before collapsing and thankfully caught by Anders. His arms were giant compared to her body. She felt she could have jumped from a second story and they wouldn’t move an inch. He found her incredibly light, he wondered if she was made of marshmallows. He got up and half carried her to an upright position. The height difference was immediately clear as she almost had to hop off his arms. The emvent left her startled and as she fussied over her dress he tried to be calming and not come off as a weirdo, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you like that, it just happened so fast”. He could feel his cheeks getting red as his memory of her body shape was repeating in a loop.  “Oh no, it’s ok, thank you! This darn thing has a broken wheel and gets me in trouble all the time.” She then took her seat “are you American?” “No, I’m from Utrecht, but I went to high school in Seattle. How about you? American?” “Oh wow, your accent is perfect. I’m from Saint Paul, in Minnesota, do you know of it?”