B12

The gate for my connecting flight had changed and I only realized it now as the gate attendant announced that they were beginning the boarding process for a flight to Miami. That explained why everyone looked at my winter coat when they sat down around me. I gathered my luggage and massive parka, removing myself from the tangle of legs and suitcases, and stepped into the flow of pedestrians. I looked for the departures screen and matched my flight number to the new gate. I was at gate D5 but I needed B12. 

As I walked, I soon sensed the presence of someone near me. They were close, but as close as you could expect in a crowded airport. It seemed that this person was looking at me. So I looked their way. When I did so, I saw a man shyly turn his gaze in the opposite direction. I was still able to discern his profile. He was quite handsome - tan, brown hair and cheeks that grew full when the bearer showed a shy smile. The man looked back when he realized I had taken notice of him. He finally spoke to me.

“That’s a lot of coat for Arizona.”

I sighed. I clearly watched too many romance movies and had hoped for words that would be the beginning of a potential romantic relationship. I looked at him, this time directly in the eye, but found myself enthralled by his dark brown eyes. We both stopped walking, and I put aside what would have been a snarky retort. 

“I’m headed to Chicago,” I said. “Just a layover in Phoenix.”

He reddened and my heart began to beat like a floating butterfly. I imagined him saying, ‘I think you’re cute. Maybe I’ll head there too.’ But what was I thinking. No one talked like that? And even if he did, would he get a seat on what was probably an already overbooked flight? And when we landed, then what? My rational side always crushed my hopes and dreams.

“I’m headed there too. I’m just getting back from a hiking trip.”

“Really?” I said, attempting to mask my revived hopes. “How are you going to survive the cold?” I added. We both looked at the thin cotton t-shirt that he was wearing. “It’s supposed to be negative ten.”

“I appreciate your concern. I do have a coat in my bag,” he gestured. “And there’s a warmer coat in my car.”

It was my turn to blush. 

“Are you headed to gate B12?” he asked. 

I nodded. Together we walked, finding the elusive B12 on the far end of the terminal. I took an open seat and he sat down beside me.

“Why are you visiting Chicago in winter?” he asked with a brow raised. “It’s not really the most enjoyable time of year to go.”

I told him that I was interested in moving there and that seeing the city at its worst was the best way for me to make my decision. 

He nodded, looking away, stroking the stubble on his chin as if considering my response for a moment. 

“Despite what everyone says, it's not so bad as long as you’re prepared.” He pointed at my coat. “It looks like you are, though you’re not going to Antarctica.”

I giggled and he smiled, this time more boldly. The attraction to him grew stronger within me. He began to share all the reasons why I should move to the city. It was as if he were a brand ambassador. 

“I’ve been living in Chicago for eight years,” he said. “I really love it there.”

He then peppered me with questions about my likes and interests and made recommendations based on my responses. We were interrupted when the gate attendant announced the start of boarding. I tried to hide my disappointment, but I think my ambassador from Chicago noticed as I let out a sigh. 

We stood in silence as we waited for our group to board. I avoided looking at him as a way to break the spell that his charm had casted on me. But deep within me, I held hopes that my luck would continue. Maybe our assigned seats would be right next to each other. 

As I walked on the plane looking for my seat, I noticed he took an aisle seat closer to the front of the plane. My seat was three rows behind him. As I sat down, I watched him stand up again and look my way. 

“Ma’am?” he called out. 

I looked at him, but his eyes were focused on the woman beside me. 

The woman looked confused, but he used his charm to get the woman to switch seats with him. The flight attendants and the man who had the aisle seat in my row were annoyed, but the woman was happy to get a better seat on the plane. 

After my Chicagoan shifted into his seat beside me, our conversation moved beyond Chicago to more personal questions. We exchanged names, professions, hometowns, etc. He kept the conversation light, but it felt like a level of intimacy was growing. 

At some point I had fallen asleep on him. The flight attendant tapped me as she made her rounds, preparing everyone for landing, I found myself waking up from my Chicagoan’s shoulder. When I looked up at him, our eyes met and I felt my cheeks turn crimson. 

“Sorry,” I mouthed, straightening up. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered. 

We rode the remainder of the flight in silence. It weighted heavily on my mind that we would have to go our separate ways soon. My rational side could not devise any other coincidence that would keep us together for the evening. If I were a bolder woman, I would have asked for his number; but I couldn’t. The thought about doing so paralyzed me. 

As the passengers prepared to de-plane, I hesitated, remaining in my seat long enough to enjoy the last moments of my travel companion’s presence. My heart beat harder with the hope that he would say something, but he was checking his phone. 

When it was our row’s turn to exit the plane, he helped me take my carryon from the over-head bin. He placed the bag on the ground for me with such a sheepish smile that I wanted to think he felt the same affinity that I did for him, but he never revealed as much verbally. 

I walked down the aisle of the plane slowly. My disappointment put a dull haze over my vision. Once I made it off the jetway and out to the waiting area by the gate, I stopped and fumbled with my bag hoping for something to happen, but I felt my heart tighten in disappointment. It was then that I felt a light tap on my shoulder. It was the man that I did not want to lose. He called my name. I turned to face him. His tan face was red. 

“May I have your number?” he asked. “I mean, I would love to show you around once you get settled in. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, I would love that,” I said, containing my overjoyed smile.

We exchanged numbers and then he waved good-bye. I lingered at the gate to regain my composure. When I looked up, I noticed the gate sign read B12.