Two-hours-twenty-one minutes until take-off.
I ordered the tallest Miller Lite the airport bar was allowed to serve and took my seat among some interesting people. The mouth on the minor-league hockey player to my right is quite offensive. There is a divorcee who was a housewife for 20 years (now interested in pursuing a career in kinesiology) called me young and claims men can’t drive.
I was flattered, then offended, so I returned fire. She laughed and we began a short-lived conversation…bad news for the older man to her right who seemed interested.
Rhonda, the airport bartender, offered to share some homemade Chex Mix with me while I watched the Celtics play with Magic. I graciously accepted.
Two hours and twelve minutes.
The ex-housewife gave in to the circling vulture, (more like a balding eagle), and I started talking to a young man on his way back home to Tulsa.
I scroll through recent texts and pick a few choice recipients and send some Christmas cheer(s).
Three Miller Lites later and I’m boarding for Houston.
I ate dinner alone, surrounded by people, at a seafood restaurant on the second floor of IAH. Oysters, lobster bisque and a sandwich for dinner on Christmas night is hardly what I would consider a feast; however, neither was the salad and processed meat the flight attendants were referring to as “chicken.”
The married couple at my eleven-o’clock interested me…
Upon ordering a bottle of wine, they were content in just being there, reading materials in-hand, quietly ignoring everything else around them…even the gentleman two tables away, quietly snapping a pic of them.
I won’t presume to know what it’s like to be married for what I imagine to be a “long” time, so I’ll save my thoughts on love for another day.
Just before takeoff, I sent my last domestic text, enabled airplane mode, had a few six-dollar Miller Lites and called it an evening. I slept as well as I could for traveling nine-point-five hours at 10,000 feet.
I woke up at seven to a warm breakfast just as filling as the meal I ate prior to my nap.
Tray table up. Airplane down.
Welcome to Buenos Aires Ezeiza Airport, en Español.
FYI: me no hablo Español.