The airport waiting room overflowed with travelers by the time I arrived for my 4 p.m. flight Monday. So, I grabbed the first seat I saw, near the front & next to some guy.
“Some guy” — I quickly surmised because I was eavesdropping — was on his way to Chicago on business. There seemed to be some confusion regarding boarding, so I offered information based on the fact I’d had the same question earlier. Turns out, “some guy” has striking blue eyes and great hands. We chatted briefly about flying and how, on this airline, having to pick your own seat meant that by the time we boarded all the good seats would be taken. Your basic easy-going banter, but nice enough to lead me to look for him on the plane, just in case there was an empty seat next to him.
But I saw a decent aisle spot before I saw Blue Eyes and decided to grab it. And though we chatted briefly after landing, that was pretty much it.
That’s not the sad part of the whole thing, though. The sad part is that I no longer hope for more. Years of “meet and greets” that have led to nothing have trained me to feel differently about possibilities. Not too long ago, I would have hoped for more, even daydreamed about it. Now, it all seems like such silliness. What an unfortunate girl.
It is so hard to sense that hopeful, romantic side of me slipping away. I only pray I never give up on hope completely.