I took off on a frigid, gloomy, and snowy day, my plane soared across the early morning sky. I was looking forward to brilliant sunshine, palm trees, relaxing on a white sandy beach and of course, bikinis, lots, and lots of them. My firm sent me to a tropical paradise to fix an outdated computer for a small to medium-sized business, I'm hoping it's not going to be all work.
After a two-and-a-half-hour trip, the pilot buttered the landing perfectly, once we started taxiing towards the terminal, the captain made his landing announcement. "Good morning, everyone, welcome to.... The local time here is 9:12 am and current temperature is 24°C under mainly cloudy skies. Thunderstorms are predicted for later this afternoon. Please remain in your seat with your seatbelts fastened until the aircraft has come to a full and complete stop and thank-you for flying...."
Within minutes of coming to a full stop, the 737's big heavy doors were swung open on both sides of the aircraft by the flight attendants. You could hear the whine of the jet engines from the other planes as they moved about the airfield. The warm, humid tropical air immediately flooded the cabin. My hands were sweating as I walked down the jet steps to the ground, then across the wide-open apron in the warm, brilliant sunshine which had just broken through the ominous dark clouds. I walked to the terminal building and into the luggage claim. While waiting for the bags to appear I looked around the room. There was a large window facing one of the airport's parking lots. A tall, slim, well-dressed young man in a beige suit and tie with an athletic build and tan caught my attention as he stood patiently holding up a sign across his chest with my name scribbled on it. After recovering my belongings and getting through customs, I went outside to speak with the young man.
"Hello there," I hollered, as I struggled to be heard above the roar of a plane taking off. "I think you're expecting me?"
"Howdy there, it's a pleasure to meet you. Yes sir, I was told by my boss to come and pick you up from the airport." the young man spoke with a broad grin and strong handshake, he couldn't have been much more than 25 years old.
"My name's Stephen," he spoke as he pointed to his head and brushed a few strands of hair between his fingers. "They call me Rusty around here because of my hair color."
Rusty and I strolled up to a little red sports car that was parked with the top down, and we spoke for a few moments before getting in and driving out of the airport parking lot. I must confess that being on the opposite side of the road seemed rather odd at first.
It had been a long time since I rode in or even drove a convertible for that matter. The ride reminded me of how much I missed my younger days driving around my small town, carefree, with the top-down and the wind blowing through my hair; trying to pick up chics. I must confess I didn't get too many then, but that's another story for another time. This trip would have been worth the trip for just this reason alone in my opinion.
My friendly new colleague Rusty and I parked in a parking spot at the front of a moderately sized structure. We entered the building, which was brilliantly lit and well air-conditioned. It was a nice respite from the hot, humid air outside. In the background, I could hear calypso-style music over a public address system. Rusty gave me a terrific tour of the business, during which I met several intriguing people. He took the time to explain everything about the facility. After a bit of walking around the place, we arrived at the EB12 computer's primary terminal area.
The first thing that occurred to me as I stood there, staring at the old dinosaur, was that we could cram everything this ancient relic could hold onto a standard smartwatch today. What I wanted to know was, what was the purpose of repairing this outdated dinosaur?
As Rusty and I continued walking, we passed by a long wooden table. I saw a lovely forty-year-old plus woman sitting there with a stack of manuals for the old beast. She leaned her elbow on the table while holding a pen in her hand. Her finger was pressed against her temple, while she flipped through the pages with her other hand. Her beautiful, curly, silky, black hair hung slightly below her shoulders and had been exquisitely cared for. She had a nice attractive tan and was dressed conservatively well in a little white blouse with a thin navy-blue business jacket and matching skirt that reached just over her knees, showcasing her short, elegant legs that were crossed at the ankle. Aside from a small gold wristwatch around her tiny wrist, she wore earrings and a sparkling gold necklace. The pretty lady had on a nice pair of black-framed reading glasses that perfectly accessorized her black, polished high-heeled shoes.
She was, in my view, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. I'm not going to lie; my heart was pumping. I swore I was going to marry this woman.
Rusty gave me a couple of taps on my upper arm as I stood staring in awe of her beauty. "Hey Denny, want a coffee?"
Once I zoned back in, I responded. "Yeah sure, I could use one after that flight. Hey, Rusty, who's that beautiful creature sitting at the table over there, is she married?"
Rusty poured the coffee and handed me the cup, turned around, looked, and gave a curt nod with a forewarning tone. "Oh, no... she's not married, and you want to keep your distance from her too. She's from Los Angeles, her name is Anna, she's worked here for years. Anna has an ice-cold personality if you try to pick her up. She'll not only reject you if you ask her out, but she'll also devour and spit you out. I started here two years ago, and there's been a steady line of guys, even gals who have tried to ask her out. If you keep things professional, she's fantastic. If I, were you, I wouldn't even think about asking her out?"
But Rusty's not me, and I'm a bit stubborn.
As we spoke, an attractive little, diminutive black lady in her early thirties with short, bleached blonde hair wearing a short, bold dress embroidered with large flowers stepped up, got a coffee, and joined us.
In her native creole, she asked pleasantly. "Hey, y'all what's going on here?"
"Hey Emma, meet Denny, he's the guy they sent to fix the computer." Rusty offered. "He's got the hots for the Ice Queen, Anna."
"Oh, Honey, yer squandering your time with that one. She ain't even going to give you the time of day. I know because I tried; I really did, I tell ya!" Emma asserted. "I was iced so hard that I suffered brain freeze for a week."
"Wow, and you're a very attractive lady."
"Well thank you for the compliment, Honey... but... ohh Honey, if you want a lady,
I'll introduce you to a few of the others around here at lunch, and you'd be banging your brains out tonight with a couple of them, I'm sure. But... don't bother with that one." Emma said with a dismissive wave and a nod.
For several minutes, the three of us continued with our conversation.
"If you want to take me up on my offer Hon, you can find me over here." Emma pointed out. Then she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Well, just in case ya ask her out and you get sent back to your snowbanks, Denny, it's been lovely meeting ya."
"Okay Sir, are you ready to meet the Ice Queen?" Rusty joked.
"Of course, let's just get this over with. I still have to fix that thing. It's not like I have a choice here." With a dismal sigh, I closed my eyes, tilted my head back and stroked the back of my neck, then pulled myself from the wall, tossing my empty cup into the garbage as my dream abruptly dissipated.
Rusty and I made our way over to the table where Anna was seated. "Anna, this is Denny, the man they sent down to help you with the machine." says Rusty.
Anna looked over her eyeglasses with a stiff brow, not even bothering to smile or welcome me. She had a smooth, expressive, yet controlled tone to her voice. "Mr. Stewart, have a seat. Rusty, will you please bring me the Thompson job files. I want to look at them while I eat lunch."
"Yes, Ma'am." Rusty responded promptly and then he took off.
"Mr. Stewart, here's what I've come up with so far." Anna went on to share her point of view on the situation.
I casually spoke up. "Uh, you can call me Denny."
"I don't believe I can." Anna remarked cynically, lowering her head slightly while peering over her spectacles once again.
