The show over, we headed for the shops to grab an ice cream whilst recounting our views of the show. I loved it and could not help grinning from ear to ear, humming along and trying to mimic simple dance steps from the show. Then I lost a footing. I bumped into him, only held back from falling down by his skinny but burly chest. The frame held me and I managed to pull myself up. I looked straight into his eyes smiling, muttering an apology. Then the face hit a cord- the stranger, I supposed was a long time friend, who had swept me off my feet once! In shock, I muttered,
“What are you doing here? I have not seen you in ages and oh gosh, of all places in the world, here in Las Vegas?”
“I saw you just as you walked into the theatre for the show. I tried to call out for you but the noise did not help. I waited here to see you.” he answered my questions in one swoop. Still as dashing as ever, I knew this was a major turn in the girls’ trip…..to be continued.
A lot was running through my head all at once. How in the world could we be meeting here again? I knew he had left the country right after the last time we saw each other in Lagos. I knew he relocated, as attempts to reach him several weeks after proved abortive.
“I miss you, unbearably so.” He muttered close to my ears. The feel of his breath, so close on my facial skin, brought me back from my deep thoughts.
I stepped back and retorted, “Well, I did not miss you.” All of the sad memories came to the forefront of my emotions. The pleasure of seeing him ceased. I could only recall the sad ending. But how could I also forget meeting him and all the life we spent together before man separated us?
I alighted from the taxi and said, “Baba, thank you. Please, have your money and you can keep the change.”
“Ha, omo mi. Thank you o. Ose yi tan. O se gan ni o.”
“A ki dupe ara eni, Sir.” I shut the door and made for my crew bag and travel case from the booth. The taxi. I took the first small bag out and was struggling to lift the travel case out when I felt a hand on my shoulder; “Let me help, my lady.”
“Oh, thanks a million,” I said.
He was standing too close. “I am happy you help but step back a bit, you are too close.”
I turned, stepping aside for him instead. He smiled, a really dashing one. His denture, slightly opened in front, was perfect! His white shirt, reminds you of snow-white. Standing still close, his perfume, smelling crisp, he effortlessly lifted the travel case out of the booth. He turned and smiled at me. The smile again!
He closed the taxi’s booth and signaled for the taxi to move.
He turned to me, “My name is Chukwudi, and do you think you are able to accept an offer of friendship from me?”
“Well, you have been kind. I will give it a thought and let you know when next we see,” I said. “But thanks a million for your help.” I reached for the cases and started towards the revolving door of the hotel to meet my colleagues for the brief meeting before our ride to the airport for the long flight to Dubai.
“How do we see again if you do not tell me your name, neither give me a number I can reach you on? He asked, trying to catch up with me.
“Am sorry, too late. I can’t stop to give you now. I would be late for my briefing. Keep your fingers crossed.” The door of the lift shut, separating the two of us for life. I thought.
Briefing time can be tough. With all possible scenarios during a flight simulated by the crew and all activities planned, sometimes, we barely make it through in two hours. Today’s meeting seemed longer than usual. Finally, we headed downstairs to the bus and left for the airport. My mind stayed on that gentleman who had helped me with my luggage that evening. I wish I had two minutes longer to speak with him.
Then, Oct. 15, 1994, I showed up for a flight to Des Moines. I wasn’t looking to meet someone special, and in fact, I was looking NOT to meet someone. I’d survived the end of a long relationship in May and figured to take the rest of the year off, dating some, but nothing serious.
At the gate, I found the No 1 flight attendant and introduced myself as the captain, introduced my trusty co-pilot, then discussed the flight plan and the weather. Then SHE walked up–self-confident, gorgeous, smiling–and introduced herself as a member of the crew. Her smile went right through me. Lightening struck, smoking hole through my head and heart, instantly.
A hometown Fort Worth girl, she was divorced, in her 30’s, with a degree in engineering, but could talk literature and loved endurance athletics. Five years with American; I had 10. We had everything in common in tastes, beliefs, interests, you name it–including, as we discovered gradually, first, last and middle initials, plus even the same middle name. By the third day, it was not a question of if, but when we’d see each other again.
Two weeks later, we flew to Memphis to do Halloween at B.B. King’s Blues Club. Halfway through the night, Preston Shannon, the headline act, picked us from a packed house and announced, “We’re going to play a special song for the two lovers in the back.”
We’ve come a long way in one year. She’s become my best friend and most trusted companion. As much as possible, we arrange to fly together as a crew, but if only one of us is scheduled to fly, the other often goes along.
Between October and the time of this writing, we’ve flown thousands of miles, coast to coast, north to south, and of course, to the moon and beyond in our hearts. We got married on New Year’s Eve. Her smile still goes right through me, and I expect it always will.
Mojereola Mustapha
