Please note that the names used in this story are fictional.
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I really don't like to fly, but I don't much care to spend hours or days in a car, train or bus either. I'd been invited to share Thanksgiving with one of my former foster sisters and while I don't keep in touch with many of my former foster families, a few I do. Stacy was always good to me and we became friends before she was adopted permanent, but this story isn't about her, it's about what happened when I tried to return home.
The weekend visit was wonderful and to see Stacy with her husband and child was special, but it was time to return home to school and classes for me. My name is Natalie and I like to think I'm pretty and friendly and well adjusted, but I know there have been times when I wouldn't have fit any of those descriptive words. At the time this takes place I'm twenty-years old. I'm a short girl, but when I'm standing by myself people think I'm taller for some reason. I've got long brown hair that I like to wear down and let it fall or often wear a headband of some flowery sort just to be colorful. I'm slender with small breasts which I'm happy with in case you're concerned. My eyes are dark brown and I generally try to smile because I feel it's my best feature.
My friend Stacy decided at the airport that for some reason she should take a digital of me and text it to me before our plane even took off. She later said she didn't know how long it would be before she would see me again and had forgotten to take pictures of me throughout the holiday.
I like to dress nicely when I fly because I like to dress the way I'm hoping the passenger who randomly sits beside me will dress. It seldom works out as I hope and the person beside me usually makes me feel they've spend the day gardening or something as the custom these days on airplanes is to dress overly casual and very grubby it seems. But I can always hope and present myself well. One of my foster parents once told me, "You never know when you're going to meet the person who makes the biggest impact in your life... so be ready and be the person you want to be for them."
Another hope for traveling is that I get lucky and the person seated next to me is someone I don't mind spending the next few hours sitting so close to. So far I've sat next to people I can tolerate, but never had that person I've really enjoyed sharing that time with. When I fly I tend to arrive early and while I sit and wait I people watch and pick out people I hope might sit beside me. I call this passenger roulette. If my luck were a loaded guy I would always get the bullet it seems because I've never had any of my choices seated beside me. As I looked around for this flight the waiting area was filled mostly with family's it seemed and I imagined a screaming child seated beside me. I usually do carry-on when I'm leaving home, and check it in when I'm returning home because while I like the security of having my things with me when I travel, I don't like the inconvenience of hunting for space to store it and having it forced to be separated from me inside the plane. So here I was relaxed and seated without luggage and only my small purse to worry about as I waited for them to begin our boarding process.
We finally began boarding and I snuck ahead in like just because I'm that kind of girl. The plane was mostly empty but we were warned it would be an overfilled flight and they had already made a few requests to compensate people to give up their seats, but I was ready to get home and Stacy would already be well on her way to the two hour drive she had in order to return home.
As soon as I was seated I saw her coming down the aisle and hoped she was headed to the seat beside me. She was a beautiful woman who appeared to be traveling by herself. She had beautiful brown hair and I guess the best way to describe her body was fit and athletic. She was wearing a tight pair of designer jeans with some low heels with a white scoop neck cotton blouse beneath an olive green shirt worn over it. She must have noticed me looking at her as she approached as she smiled at me, but passed me and took her seat opposite the aisle in the row behind me, taking the window seat. From where I sat in my aisle row seat I could turn my head and dream that she would have sat beside me.
It was then when Stacy's text came through to my phone and I saw my own photo and read Stacy's message about how enjoyable I made the holiday for her and before I put my phone away I glanced over to my dream passenger as she was sitting and reading something she must have selected from the pocket in front of her. I put my phone into camera mode and made certain the flash wasn't on and as a gap in the passengers boarding came I snapped a phot of her, and thankfully she didn't notice.
I don't know what possess me to take a photo of a complete stranger, but my first intent was to send a reply to Stacy and include the photo, but I thought it would seem to strange. I replied instead with a simple message to Stacy agreeing that it was a memorable holiday and thanking her again for the invite.
I turned to glance back at my newest desire and hoped there could be a chance nobody would sit beside her, but my dreams were already shattered as an elderly couple was packing their things as the wife sat beside my dream passenger and her husband sat beside the wife.
I'm bisexual in case at this point of the story you're wondering if I have any desires in men, but my radar is more tuned towards other females and I let the men find me if they're interested. With my dream shattered my thoughts were interrupted by the middle aged couple who stopped in the aisle beside me and said, "I think we're next to you." Of course you are, I thought to myself as they weren't the couple I wanted beside me or even close. I moved from my seat to stand in the aisle. He had two bags of carry-on which would each push the limits of what was allowed and I could already see the overhead above me was filled. My dream girl looked at me and smiled as I was forced to move down the aisle towards the back of the plane with him as he tried to find spaces to put his bags. Of course even when he found space the bags were too big and he was finally rescued by a flight attendant with some tags to put onto the bags so she could have them gate-checked. Moving back up the aisle towards my seat I felt like a salmon swimming upstream trying to spawn. This was why I didn't bring my own luggage and now I was doing the work for people I didn't even like.
As I got back to my row I turned and she was looking at me again and I couldn't help myself as I found myself wanting to connect with her and said, "I hate flying," She replied, "I'm with you." I sat down into my seat and fastened my seatbelt and wished she was with me.
The flight to my connection in Denver was bumpy enough that they wouldn't do any drink or snack service and asked us to please remain in our seats unless conditions change and we would be informed. The flight was a little rocky and bumpy but nothing dramatic happened before we started our descent to the Denver airport. The window nearest me was open and I could see how ominous the dark skies outside the airplane looked but thought my happy thoughts as we moved closer and closer to touching down until the wheels of our plan skidded and we slowed dramatically on the landing strip. Finally on the ground I could unclench my fists and relax as we made our way towards the gates and after a rush of people to stand crowded in the aisles they opened the doors and began to let us out.
I wasn't in the front of the plane, but wasn't in the back either. I waited patiently letting the couple beside me exit ahead of me in hopes I would miraculously end up beside the mystery girl I'd found myself attracted to. We were alerted upon exiting the plane that we should go to customer service and I wasn't sure why. I paused at the schedule board where they posted the departures and every flight was listed as "Delayed." I wasn't sure what this meant, but I didn't think it could mean anything good, so as my dream girl walked past me I got my cell phone and went into the internet and found a hotel reservation site and quickly made myself a reservation for a single, which I knew I could cancel if needed.
Like sheep being led to be sheared we headed towards customer service and when I arrived, the lines were eight wide and lengthy with people hanging onto their luggage and grumbling as they exited. I got into the line behind the girl in the olive green top, and at this point was beginning to feel like a stalker as I watched her from behind. One by one each group of traveler was giving the grim news until I arrived at the counter and was given the same prepared message that flights were being grounded due to thunderstorms and tornado type weather in the area. Reservations were being made for flight the following day and I was asked which times I would like to fly. I was also informed because of the possible weather dangers the planes would not have the luggage removed until the weather improved so our bags would be unavailable indefinitely or transferred directly to our new flights. I was assigned a seat on a two o'clock flight for the following day and her sincere apology for my inconvenience.
I looked around after making my way away from the counter in hopes of seeing her again, but she was gone so I started to walk inside the terminal towards the airport exit. That's when I saw her sitting in a chair texting on her phone and I dared myself to go sit beside her.
"I hate it when this happens? She said softly as her thumbs continued to peck out words until she pressed send and her message was off.
"Do you fly often?" I asked.
"For business yes, but this was a personal trip," She said as her phone received a text and she opened it on her screen, and I could read it from where I sat as it said, "Make the best of it but it's best to fly safe." She pushed the phone back into her jeans pocket.
"So what about you?" She said, as she turned her attention to me.
"I fly randomly," I said, "By the way my name is Natalie".
"Misty... and I am not a stripper," she said.
"Misty is a beautiful name," I said.
"Misty is a weather condition, not intended to be a name," She said with a smile.
"At last people don't call you Nat," I said.
"Like a little bug gnat?" Misty asked.
"You got it," I replied.
"Isn't there some Olympic person named Misty?" I asked.
"The beach volleyball player," She said, "but I'm not her."
"Oh yeah, gold medal winners," I said as I remembered her.
"No relation," Misty teased.
"Did they reschedule you for tomorrow? I assume this isn't your final stop or you would be gone" I asked.
