Mr. 19J
It finally
happened. After thousands of flights in
my lifetime a dream came true. I always
hoped that I would be seated next to a sexy man. Well, on 13 October 2015, I did. We spent the night together with the
always-wonderful service of KLM from New York to Amsterdam.
I was fortunate
enough to spend a good chunk of a beautiful autumn in Europe working on my next
book—drum roll—it’s title, I’m happy to announce is The Khat’s Mejou. It covers
my time living in Africa and picks up where (shameless plug) Amsterdam Angel and The Reverie Bubble left off.
The flight was
nearly full. I waited at the gate with
the lowest priority along with five other standbys, to see if there was a seat
for me. One-by-one the others smiled
with relief as they received a ticket and made their way down the jet bridge.
Then it was my
turn, and a seat was available! I had
the option of a window or aisle. Window
hands down for an overnight flight to sleep and not be bothered. I’m always thrilled with any seat as long as I get where I want to go and receiving 19K was
no different.
As I scurried on
the door soon closed behind me. Everyone
was seated and ready to go. I approached
row 19 and could see the head of a man sitting in the middle with an empty seat
on each side. Once I saw the tall,
sturdy, young man I became a bit nervous, both because he was so gorgeous to me
and the fact that I would have to let him know he did not have the whole row to himself.
He could not stretch his long,
muscular legs out like I was sure he hoped.
He would have to share, with me.
When I stopped at
the row he looked up. He had the rugged,
chiseled face of a man combined with the envy producing smooth skin of a
boy. His big brown eyes I could have
fallen into. His military style brown
hair put me in a ‘Yes, Sir!’ mood. But
my gaydar screamed straight, and he became someone to simply crush on.
“I’m in the
window,” I said with an apologetic look.
He simply began to
rise and move aside. He was slightly
taller than me with broad shoulders and in his mid-twenties. It felt as if the whole plane was waiting for
me so I quickly slipped into 19K and stuffed my big orange duffel bag
underneath the seat in front of me.
Mr. 19J (in my
fantasy the ‘J’ stood for Jason, natuurlijk--as
in it was meant to be) sat back in his seat.
I knew I was the last one on and that he could move to the aisle to give
a bit more room for us both. But he
didn’t. He stayed in his middle seat as
I tried to get comfortable with my bag taking up most of my legroom. As the flight attendant came by to do their
final check she informed Mr. 19J that he could move over to the aisle
seat.
“I will, I watch
the takeoff first,” he replied in broken English with a Russian accent.
Awe, I thought as the flight attendant
smiled sweetly and glanced at me. I felt
we both had the same thought that it was endearing Mr. 19J enjoyed something so
simple that two flight attendants experience numerous times. My crush became more crushed. He was hot and sweet.
As the flight attendant
left I looked to the window. It was a
third closed and I instantly began to reach for it as he began to speak to ask
me to open it before stopping once he realized I was. He nodded and slightly smiled. A moment of connection lasting seconds but I
enjoyed every one, especially the smile and look into his eyes.
“You like to put
your bag here,” he asked pointing underneath the aisle seat.
I accepted his
kind offer and he moved it over. I
figured we would move it to the middle seat once he slid into the aisle
seat.
As the big blue
777 began racing down the runway I fully embraced the moment to share with Mr.
19J knowing now it was a thrill to him.
With all sexual notions removed because of the simple facts that he was
straight and I was in a relationship, the experience evolved to a schoolboy
unrequited tenderness that I could both enjoy and feel safe in an innocent
fantasy as the plane glided into the sun setting sky and we prepared to spend
the night together.
Once in the air
Mr. 19J moved to the aisle seat. I told
him he could move my bag to the middle seat to give him room. But he said it was fine where it was. He suggested we could stretch out our legs toward
the middle. It was so sweet to me. More
crushing.
The flight
attendant came by passing out headphones.
They wrapped around the earlobes in a funny way and ‘clipped’ on. I noticed him look at them then glance over to
me, not exactly sure how they went on. I
made an obvious demonstration without him letting him know I knew he was looking.
He proceeded to watch
a Marvel comic action flick. I was in
the mood for romance. I choose a film
where something develops between two people from a chance meeting and found a
Dutch rom-com to practice my Dutch as well, as our meals came around.
Once supper was
finished an announcement for duty free shopping came over the intercom. With his limited English Mr. 19J couldn’t
quite make out everything and turned to me for explanation for what was happening. I, happily at his beck and call, explained
what was said. His thanks sent another
thrill through me that I was helpful to him.
Even though it was one more moment lasting only seconds it was something to connect to my crush.
After the flight
attendants were done with duty free I excused myself to change and brush my
teeth. I fumbled through my bag in the
aisle to find everything I needed before stuffing it back under the aisle
seat.
When I returned I
asked Mr. 19J if he was sure he didn’t want me to move my bag out from
underneath his seat and into the middle.
He assured me it was fine and that he would watch it. Crushing continued.
With the lights
dimmed, I popped an Ambien, covered myself with the blanket, put my earplugs in
and eye mask as Mr. 19J continued watching movies. I saw myself reflected in him at that age,
traveling internationally, staying up all night watching movies. But I had reached an age where attempting to
sleep is a must on an overnight flight.
But I tossed and
turned and simply could not get comfortable or quality sleep knowing Mr. 19J
was so near. Occasionally our legs
brushed against each other as I shifted around.
When it did it added precious seconds of more connecting to my crush and
sent more thrills through me. But it
also added to my inability to fall asleep.
Occasionally I would subtly peek from beneath my eye mask for another
glance at Mr. 19J to make sure he wasn’t a dream. But he was always still there, in an
attractive spotlight from the illumination of his screen.
The puer aeternus in me began to play in my
imagination—since he was not going to be my husband—I thought of Mr. 19J as my young,
handsome, and brawny Russian bodyguard protecting and watching my bag and
giving me space while defending any intruders into the row that wanted to snap
a picture or ask for an autograph. It
provided me some entertainment that substituted for sleep.
Upon landing he
slid my bag to me. Like Pi, I had hoped
for some sort of exchange, a good-bye, an, ‘enjoy Amsterdam’, or something
acknowledging our night together. But there wasn’t, and like Richard Parker,
there was no looking back as he exited the plane.
An occupational
hazard for a writer, it was all in my head, and completely one sided. But it didn’t make it any less enjoyable as
the dream fulfilled itself perfectly and was playfully imaginative with a great
lead in the role! And as always thanks
to KLM for a wonderful flight and service!
As fall comes to a close and the holidays approach, I wish you all a
very joyous season and best wishes for a healthy and happy 2016
XXX,
Jason
