Another delayed flight, another last minute connection. I rush through the terminal building, the display screens showing 'gate closing' for my next flight. As always, I seem to have to travel the entire length of the concourse, and my way keeps being blocked by slow moving crowds.
"Why does this always happen to me?" I scream to myself.
I arrive at the gate as the last couple of people are passing through the final security check. Having done the obligatory 'shoes off, belt off, do you want me to drop my pants too?' routine I am through to the boarding area. I drop my bags, collapse breathless onto a seat and close my eyes.
After a couple of minutes I look around. There is the usual mixture of business suits and holiday casuals but the flight is obviously not going to be full. I am just about to close my eyes again when I see her. She is a couple of rows away, her face just showing over the top of a magazine, but what has caught my attention is that she is looking directly at me and laughing.
For a moment I am taken aback, and then I realise that my anger and frustration has been only too visibly displayed, and maybe I need to be mocked. Whatever the intent, the result is to make my stress evaporate.
I look across to her, smile and mouth the words, "Thank you."
She smiles back and then drops her eyes back to her magazine. I look at her face as she reads and see that the smile has not left her lips.
The boarding announcement is made and immediately a long queue forms. I will never understand why people are so keen to get into a seat that they will be trapped in for the next eight hours, especially when the flight is only half full. Once the queue has diminished to just a couple of people I get up and collect my bags. She is still reading her magazine and as I pass I enquire whether she is going to wait for the next one. She laughs and gets up, following me down the air bridge. I thank her for helping me see the funny side of my situation.
She laughs and says, "You looked ready to burst – I could see you needed some relief."
I look at her, trying to work out how much to read into that double meaning. Her sparkling blue eyes and cheeky grin tell me plenty.
I ask her name and she replies, "Emma."
Typically the airline has crowded all the passengers into the front of the plane and the rear is almost empty. I have an aisle seat and Emma is sitting a couple of rows behind. As soon as we are airborne I have a word with the flight attendant and then move further back. As I pass Emma I tell her I'm moving to find some more space and privacy. She raises her eyebrows and smiles. I offer to buy her a drink for what she has done. We both laugh, knowing that for the next few hours all the drinks will be free.