Pick me up and fly away
In airports I like to sit in that last row, the one that faces out into the space of the airport, the one where I can watch people hurrying to a gate, or munching on cinnamon rolls. I also like to sit at the end of a row, but I think that is more of a personal-bubble issue.

I was sitting at the end of a last row comfortably reading a book and waiting for a plane. I would be a negligent story-teller if I didn't admit that I had noticed her before. She was directly in my line of sight whenever I looked up. To say she was unattractive would be grossly unfair. To say she was distracting me from reading, probably inaccurate. Until he arrived. I watched out of the corner of my eye as this Irish-looking fellow put his bag down at her table and then took a couple of steps into my light. Perhaps he was looking at flight information above my head, but I'd realize later he was collecting himself before he returned to the table.

He sat down and began speaking to the woman. I stopped reading and watched as discreetly as I could. He was pale and his red hair was thinning. He looked to be in his late 30's. She was Asian and no older than 30. It was not impossible that these two knew one another, but I watched to find out. Snippets of conversation quickly told me that my instinct was right. It didn't take much to realize that our man here was on the prowl. I caught, "I was hoping to get a card." He was denied. She politely took his phone number and he mumbled something like "it was worth it," as he hurried off to his plane.

Wouldn't it be funny if she was on the same plane as me? I thought and forgot as I returned to reading. I was far more attentive to my book this time around. I perked up when my name was called over the PA system. All right already, I'll board the plane.

I made my way past all the full rows and spotted my empty window seat. Who was sitting in the aisle seat? She was. Funny indeed. My stomach rolled all around as I tried to decide what if anything I should say. Finally the pressure inside got to be too much and out popped, "I have to know, was that guy successful picking you up?"

She laughed and asked somewhat horrified, "You saw that?"

I did. And I was fascinated. We chatted for a while like single-serving friends will do. Then we arrived and said our goodbyes.

Did I get her card? Why, a gentleman never tells. Not to mention that this gentleman couldn't figure out how to go from poking fun at a guy who asked for a card to asking for a card himself. Starting a conversation with a not-unattractive stranger is a triumph for me.