I was flying from down south to the national capital on a work assignment by an evening flight. It was a cold winter evening, not so cold in my home city, but raining, as it so often does in that city. The forecast was for very cold weather in the national capital, with rain. Altogether a depressing prospect, and to make things worse, the flight was late. I sat nursing a drink in the lounge so thoughtfully provided by my bank for its card holders. Near where I sat, a lady dressed in a black pant suit was talking in a low voice into her cell phone. She seemed to be somewhat agitated, and after sometime, with an air of failed finality, she got off her phone, beckoned the waiter and ordered a drink, which she gulped down immediately. She looked around for the waiter, who had vanished into the innards of the room. Our eyes met. I smiled sympathetically and said:
"Just when you want a waiter, he seems to vanish into thin air."
"Most irritating, and I do so desperately need a drink."
"May I help you to get a drink?" – I asked.
"Please. But don't get the impression that I'm in the habit of knocking down alcoholic drinks out of fear of flying. It's just that I'm facing a predicament created by someone else."
"Tell me about it after I get you that drink. I've found that it helps to release tension when you share your problem with someone else."
I got up, unearthed the waiter taking what was no doubt a well deserved break in a corner where there were no customers to disturb him, ordered two drinks and got back to my chair. The lady motioned me to sit at her table. The drinks came; she took a sip and then proceeded to unburden her soul.
"This weakling cousin of mine, just because his wife doesn't like me, because she thinks I'll steal that twerp away from her, was on the phone to tell me that it would be inconvenient for me to stay with him, and this at the last moment when I'm already in the airport, and knowing fully well that I hate staying on my own in a hotel."
"May I suggest that you stay in the hotel where I'm booked? It's a small boutique hotel, cozy and comfortable, far away from the madding crowd, though very centrally located."
The flight was eventually announced. I charmed a flight attendant into letting us sit together. We made small talk and partook of the light dinner provided by the airline. We landed at our destination, collected our baggage and found a cab to take us to the hotel.
While I was checking in, she stood near me, and the clerk asked me if we were together. I was going to say 'no' but before I could open my mouth, she said 'yes', and that, I can tell you disconcerted me no end. In the elevator taking us to our room, she kept demurely quiet in front of the bellboy. Once alone inside the room, she raised her hands as if to silence me and said:
"Please don't mind the imposition. I just can't stay alone in a hotel room. You seem a decent sort, and I'd rather stay with you than stay alone. Please understand my situation. It's just for one night and I won't be any trouble, I promise you. I'll even pay for the room."
I took stock of the situation. Here I was, just turning 30, a happy bachelor with no complications in life, and this woman, about 15 years my senior, was so desperate to occupy a hotel room with me rather than stay alone. She was tall and slim, with a sharp aquiline face, and from what I could make out, had a decent enough figure under that pant suit. Another problem: the room had a double bed, very suitable for an amorous couple, but certainly not meant for two strangers who had just met. We didn't even know each others name. It was a surrealistic experience, I can tell you.
