An excerpt from
A Small Flirtation

I saw him for the first time in the book stalls at O’Hare. I almost dropped the cup of ice cream I was juggling, along with the usual traveling paraphernalia—jacket, purse, portfolio. There he was, my cow-boy, my guide, come to life.

I almost ran up to him. Restrain yourself, girl. So I casually sauntered by, was about to say, “Don’t bother to buy that one, it’s really lousy,” when he put it back and turned away—away from me.

Well, what did I expect?

I’d been alone so long and was so isolated, I rarely even thought about men anymore. Hadn’t I had enough? All I had or wanted now were fantasies. But just walk into an airport and find him? I was startled by the sudden queasy kind of rush I felt as I stood and watched him for a moment. There was a kind of casual elegance about him—tall, attractive, well put together. He exuded an air of confidence as he strode off. My heart sank.

He’s off to another part of the world. He could be going anywhere from Beloit to Bangkok. And I’m going home to San Francisco. I hurried to my gate to check in.

Everyone looked disgruntled, standing in groups, shaking heads, some loud protests…

”Sorry, but there’s been a delay.”
“How much?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Well…”
“What’s the problem?”
“Something in New York…”
“Something in New York?”
“The equipment hasn’t become airborne yet.”
“By ‘equipment’ do you mean ‘airplane’? The plane that’s supposed to take me across the country hasn’t left New York yet?”
“Well, yes.”
“As New York is rather a large center, how about sending a different ‘piece of equipment?”
“It’s being considered. But in the meantime, there’s a plane getting ready to leave for Los Angeles and then we’ll fly you on to SFO.”
“What about other airlines? After all, this is O’Hare and you do have other airlines.”
“We’re considering that, too.”

Good grief. Here we are in a new millennium and no one seems able to figure out how to put another plane into service at one of the busiest airports in the country.

And on and on. Eventually they re-routed as many of us as wanted to be. I stood by and waited. The new ‘piece of equipment’ was on its way.

“Have lunch on us…” So I teamed up with a woman who had come up from Washington for a couple of days of U.S. business and was en route to a conference in Oakland. I didn’t tell her Oakland is not San Francisco, and good luck getting there. We all had enough irritations for the day.

“We’ll begin boarding immediately. Please line up at thr gate.” The new equipment had arrived and there he was. I couldn’t believe it. He caught my eye and gave me a quick little half smile and nod.

He walked down the aisle past me; didn’t even see where I was sitting. As is my pattern, I fall asleep on take-off—some kind of self-protection against fear. I was told at eighteen by a Navy flyer that take off and landing are the most dangerous times in an aircraft. Since that day, I nod off at both ends of a fight. Not too good if there is a emergency—“Wake up, dear, it’s time to jump into the slide.”

Anyway, I dozed off to be awakened by, “Would you like something to drink?” The flight attendant had drawn the cart next to my seat and was speaking to me. She handed me a Coke and moved on. I glanced across the aisle. The woman I’d had lunch with had been seated there when we first boarded the plane. Now he was in her seat! He raised his glass in a toast, smiled, opened his brief case and began to work.

I don’t remember how much time elapsed before we actually spoke. It seems a long time. I remember a child was playing in the aisle and dropped a toy near his feet. He retrieved it with a laugh and looked up at me. We said something—something.

Thus began the saga.