As I. Beryl Robins, was flying from Chicago O'Hare to Dulles International outside Washington, D. C. on my way to Grand Cayman Island I was filled with angst. Sitting next to me in First Class was my wife of nine years, Daphne. She was the primary cause of my anxiety. I'm not the most observant guy in the world so it took me almost a decade to figure out that she was a manipulative self-centered bitch of the first order. My only excuses for that were that she is also charming (when she wants to be) and hot, clearly at least a 9.8 on a 10 point scale -- at least according to my tastes. She's the only woman with that degree of hotness who ever expressed any romantic interest in me; at least given my poor powers of observancy.
I've always been a highly motivated person; my high degree of motivation -- at least according to my friends and what family members weren't dysfunctional -- causes me to have blinders on in social situations. However, it does lend itself to financial success -- which I have achieved -- and physical fitness -- which I also have achieved.
Another excuse for my pain tolerance and lack of observancy is my background. Despite my high degree of motivation I also had a really bad attitude and violent tendency when I was a teenager. Despite getting good grades in school I got into many fights and scuffles and even pulled off some petty crimes. I started changing when I was 17 and one of the High School football coaches. Bill Dotson, caught me doing something that was on the borderline of a misdemeanor and felony and gave me a way out -- come out for the football team (which was shorthanded since it was a relatively small school that emphasized other sports).
Not only was Dotson not someone to mess with (he was 6 feet six inches tall, weighed 260 pounds, and could easily bench press 300 pounds), but he was about the only adult male that ever seemed to give a shit about me. I turned my violent tendencies into success on the football field as a defensive end and with Dotson's tutelage got my previously white hot temper under control. In college I also played defensive end at a Division II school and my female counselor helped me take courses and get counselling to further reign in my temper. By the time that I graduated I was almost a mellow-fellow, although deep down I always wondered if I'd fall off the wagon if provoked; and I still had those "blinders" on in social situations.
Anyway, on the plane a motion picture of how many ways that Daphne had denigrated my confidence and my worth as a sexual being ran at high speed through my head as I leaned back against the seat. Featured in the color movie in my head were her snide remarks about my choice of clothes, hair style, and taste in general. There were also the unfavorable comparisons of me to some of my male friends or men in the media. There were the rolled eyes when I was interested in being romantic, or looking for sex. There were the less than subtle hints that she'd rather be doing something else than interfacing with me; although she certainly seemed to enjoy the material things that my high level of business motivation provided.
I guess that I overlooked these slights and disparagements until I no longer could. Receiving a verbal report of infidelity from a close business associate of mine was almost embarrassing beyond my ability to handle it.
Only to have no doubt about Daphne's transgressions I had a private investigator do a little more investigation after the report from my business associate and the P. I. found her affair easy to confirm.
The only reason that I didn't dump the bitch immediately was because of my lack of confidence in my ability to ever find another suitable mate. I had not yet concluded -- which I hopefully sometime would -- that I was worthy of love and had a right to not be cheated on.
***********
The trip to Grand Cayman had been planned for several months -- before I found out about Daphne's cheating -- to get us away from the brutal Chicago winter. The day we left it was 10°F with six inches of snow, an overcast sky, and a 25 mph wind in Chicago, and 81°F with a 5 mph breeze and bright sunshine in Grand Cayman. I wasn't going to miss that weather for a week or so for anything; I put my problem on hold to the extent that I could.
Daphne made the travel arrangements and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why we went through Dulles. In her normal inimical way she apprised me of the reason only after we got to Dulles. "There's a remarkable little craft store only about a ten minute taxi ride from there, so I'm visiting it during the three hour layover we have," she smiled as we get in the people mover.
"You mean we have to get our luggage and then go through security again?" I wailed.
"It's no big deal; Carol says that I really need to see that store," Daphne snarled. Carol is one of her best buddies, also hot, but also as big of a bitch as Daphne is. I refused to go to the store with her and instead stayed with our luggage outside the check-in counter, moving both of our (fortunately) roller bags with me when I needed to move around, go to the men's room, or get something to eat or drink.
My perception of the situation changed about five minutes before Daphne returned from her sojourn. Norah O'Donnell (the CBS lead newscaster) and her husband Geoff Tracy came into the airport and went up to the same airline counter that I was waiting near. How do I know Norah O'Donnell's husband's name? I have a "thing" for her and have absorbed most of the public information about her and her family.
I guess most guys -- if they will admit it -- have a celebrity crush or two. I have two -- and only two; Norah O'Donnell and Katherine McPhee (a lesser known actress and singer). They don't really look that similar, although they are the same height (5 feet 8 inches or 173 cm if you use the metric system). They both do have lovely faces and pleasant public demeanors; something that I thought that Daphne had when I married her. Actually, Daphne still does, it's her private behavior that's the problem.
My eyes were probably bulging -- I even put on sunglasses to hide them -- while I tried to surreptitiously ogle Norah. She looked as beautiful in real life as on TV. I noticed that she had a very distinctive roller bag that she checked, primarily red with a white diagonal stripe.
When my lovely but bitchy wife returned from her escapade she had only a small bag with the craft store's name on it with her. "Didn't the store meet your expectations?" I asked since Daphne isn't known for modest spending habits.
"Yes it did; it was as great as Carol said it would be. I'm having most of my purchases shipped directly home; there's too much stuff to take with us to the Cayman Islands," she grinned. Well at least her shopping spree had put her in a good mood. After her reply she looked at me quizzically and asked "Why do you have sunglasses on?"
Obviously I wasn't going to tell her "To keep people from noticing me ogling Norah O'Donnell," so I took them off and replied "There was a short period of bright sunshine coming through the windows, but I don't need them anymore." I did get a good look that Daphne didn't catch at Norah's perfect ass disappearing into the TSA line.
My day got brighter when we arrived at our gate and found that Norah and Geoff were on our flight, also in first class. Since it wouldn't have been rational to put my sunglasses back on in the dim gate area, I had to be very careful not to be too obvious checking Norah out. I knew that I'd never forgive myself if I didn't talk to Norah but I didn't want to be obvious about it either. Then inspiration struck; I remembered one of my business associates talking about the great meal he had at Chef Geoff's restaurant in D. C., one of the restaurants owned by Geoff Tracy. I got up my nerve and walked over toward him just as he stood up to stretch his legs.
"Hi, Geoff; you don't know me but I'm Beryl Robins," I said with a smile and not looking at Norah. "I just wanted to tell you that you're getting great word of mouth advertising for Chef Geoff's in the Chicago area. Three of my friends have raved about the meals they've had there," I smiled.
Of course he had to smile at my words -- and so I exaggerated that it was three friends instead of just one -- so sue me. I followed it up with "I will definitely go there if I'm ever in Washington on business."
We chatted a little more, and then he introduced me to Norah, who had been watching us. "Oh, I forgot, you're married to Geoff," I smiled at her and shook her hand -- a lightning bolt traveling up my spine as I did so. "My favorite newscaster married to who I might find out is my favorite restauranteur in Washington -- if I ever get to go to Chef Geoff's," I smiled.
After another minute of happy talk first class boarding was announced; so they headed toward the gate. I went back by Daphne to get my carryon bag while Norah and Geoff proceeded to the ticket taker. "Is that Norah O'Donnell that you were talking too?" Daphne asked.
"Well I was talking to her husband and then he introduced me," I said as nonchalantly as I could. Daphne normally watches the ABC news with David Muir, while I watch Norah, but she has a high opinion of Norah too.
As a further coincidence, Norah and Geoff were seated just across the aisle from Daphne and me. I introduced them to Daphne before the coach passengers boarded, and Daphne chatted with Norah for a few minutes on the flight without being bothersome.
When we landed in Grand Cayman, Geoff and Norah preceded us off the plane and stopped at a store in the concourse while Daphne and I proceeded directly to the relevant baggage carousel. The airline that we flew gets first class baggage out first, so we waited only a minute before our luggage came. After I lifted both of our checked bags off the conveyor and we moved off to the side Norah and Geoff weren't there yet -- and I noticed a shady looking guy look around, and then lift Norah's distinctive looking red and white roller bag off the carousel. As he moved toward the far end baggage claim exit I told Daphne "Wait here -- I think that guy is stealing luggage because I didn't see him on our flight." I didn't mention to her that I knew it to be Norah's bag.
It took me about 50 meters before I caught up with the guy. I grabbed the roller bag and said "This isn't yours buddy."
"Yes it is," he snarled, trying to pull it away from me; but my grip was stronger than his.
"OK then, tell me what name is on the luggage tag," I said knowing that he couldn't see the tag because it had a flap covering it.
"Let the fuck go if you know what's good for you," he snarled.
"You're not leaving with this bag, asshole," I snarled back.
He suddenly pulled out a knife -- it was a small one -- and before I realized it started to slash at me. He did scratch my left forearm, but it was a minor cut. Suddenly my violent tendency from my youth reared its ugly head and before I knew exactly what happened he was lying unconscious on the floor. I think that I instinctively kicked him in the balls with a roundhouse kick then smashed his face into my upwardly moving knee -- but I'm not really sure since I had seen red.
A woman screamed and two security officers ran over, one male, one female. They saw the cut on my arm, the knife lying next to the perpetrator, and there was a glimmer of recognition when one of the officers lifted up his face for a good look, so they didn't assume that I was the bad guy.
I showed the security officers the tag on the luggage and explained the situation. I presented them my passport and told them that I was staying at the Ritz Carlton and gave them my cellphone number.
The female security officer seemed to want to be sure that I had a good impression of Grand Cayman and not to cause me any angst. In a beautiful Caribbean accent the female security officer said with a smile "We know this guy; he's a bad man; please enjoy your stay on Grand Cayman Mr. Robins; we'll take him to the police. Also say hi to Elena -- a waitress at the Saint June restaurant at the Ritz; she's my sister."
"I certainly will," I smiled back.
