Friday Friction
Friday Friction inspired by Ren Wench this week.
International airports go from swamped to empty and back again in some bizarre cycle, independent of the time of day or night. It’s hard to even count how many times I’ve sat in an airport lounge and in all those times I’ve never figured out the pattern. Oh sure the holiday weekends and the summer months are always busier. But there was that one Wednesday night at 11 pm in December, when the place was mostly empty, that a huge influx crowded the place. Never did find out why, just the mystery of airline schedules I guess. So I sit and I watch the ebb and flow of people and luggage, tearful farewells and joyous hellos. Sometimes I bring a book or a magazine depending on her arrival time. Her flights are often delayed since she is crossing the ocean and wind and weather effect planes so much.
We meet by chance one night at a mutual friend’s party. Well more like a friend of a friends party. I was tagging along with a couple as a third wheel. She was solo and knew the hosts. We started talking at the bar when we both reached for the same bottle of whiskey. I reached the bottle first and she asked me to pour her a shot too. We both drank it neat, no ice. We started chatting over whiskeys we both liked and then moved onto other topics, sitting close together on the sofa talking the night away. At some point I realized my friends, the hosts and we were the only people left at the party and it was 2am.
We exchanged numbers and she promised to call next time she was in town. Her job was based out of London but she traveled extensively. One week in Bombay, the next in San Francisco. It must have been nearly two weeks later that she called and asked if I would meet her at the airport. She was going to be in town for a long weekend and wanted to get together. I was more then happy to provide a lift from the airport to her hotel. She offered to bring a bottle of Irish whiskey to pay for the ride.
We hugged at the airport like long lost friends. The ride was made short by the playful conversation between us. At the hotel I helped you up to room with your luggage. You offered me the bottle of whiskey as payment and I suggested we open the bottle. A few drinks, a room service dinner later and it was very late. I went to gather up my coat and leave, you walked me to the door. At the door I turned and you were right there looking into my eyes. I made some witty quip and you just kept looking into my eyes. Finally taking the hint I leaned into your lips and we kissed softly at first, then longer and harder.
That was our first night together and there have been many more between then and now. You always bring me a new and different bottle of whiskey, apparently there is an endless supply of breweries in Ireland and the rest of the UK. I no longer take you to a hotel, you spend your time at my apartment. There is space in my closet and a few drawers in my bureau for some of your things.
So I sit in this airport and wait for you to arrive, for them to announce your flight or any delays, thinking of your eyes and the smell of your skin in the morning. I wonder if anyone rushing by or sitting nearby is curious about me, sitting here so patiently with the half smile on my lips as I think about you.
International airports go from swamped to empty and back again in some bizarre cycle, independent of the time of day or night. It’s hard to even count how many times I’ve sat in an airport lounge and in all those times I’ve never figured out the pattern. Oh sure the holiday weekends and the summer months are always busier. But there was that one Wednesday night at 11 pm in December, when the place was mostly empty, that a huge influx crowded the place. Never did find out why, just the mystery of airline schedules I guess. So I sit and I watch the ebb and flow of people and luggage, tearful farewells and joyous hellos. Sometimes I bring a book or a magazine depending on her arrival time. Her flights are often delayed since she is crossing the ocean and wind and weather effect planes so much.
We meet by chance one night at a mutual friend’s party. Well more like a friend of a friends party. I was tagging along with a couple as a third wheel. She was solo and knew the hosts. We started talking at the bar when we both reached for the same bottle of whiskey. I reached the bottle first and she asked me to pour her a shot too. We both drank it neat, no ice. We started chatting over whiskeys we both liked and then moved onto other topics, sitting close together on the sofa talking the night away. At some point I realized my friends, the hosts and we were the only people left at the party and it was 2am.
We exchanged numbers and she promised to call next time she was in town. Her job was based out of London but she traveled extensively. One week in Bombay, the next in San Francisco. It must have been nearly two weeks later that she called and asked if I would meet her at the airport. She was going to be in town for a long weekend and wanted to get together. I was more then happy to provide a lift from the airport to her hotel. She offered to bring a bottle of Irish whiskey to pay for the ride.
We hugged at the airport like long lost friends. The ride was made short by the playful conversation between us. At the hotel I helped you up to room with your luggage. You offered me the bottle of whiskey as payment and I suggested we open the bottle. A few drinks, a room service dinner later and it was very late. I went to gather up my coat and leave, you walked me to the door. At the door I turned and you were right there looking into my eyes. I made some witty quip and you just kept looking into my eyes. Finally taking the hint I leaned into your lips and we kissed softly at first, then longer and harder.
That was our first night together and there have been many more between then and now. You always bring me a new and different bottle of whiskey, apparently there is an endless supply of breweries in Ireland and the rest of the UK. I no longer take you to a hotel, you spend your time at my apartment. There is space in my closet and a few drawers in my bureau for some of your things.
So I sit in this airport and wait for you to arrive, for them to announce your flight or any delays, thinking of your eyes and the smell of your skin in the morning. I wonder if anyone rushing by or sitting nearby is curious about me, sitting here so patiently with the half smile on my lips as I think about you.