I don’t remember where I was going or why I was going there, but I do remember the aroma of bacon frying wafting in the air just as my stomach growled. It was a blessing. I was hungry and my flight was delayed for six hours. No, I am not being sarcastic; for I was stuck in Atlanta.
For six hours.
Before cell phones.
How did I manage?
Well, I immediately got up and headed over to the restaurant/bar whose décor looked as though it were dipped in sunshine and took a two-seater booth. The place was oddly empty, but I still sat in the back with my back facing the wall.
Old habit.
A middle aged woman with strawberry colored braids asked for my order in a southern drawl that was as slow and thick as molasses. I ordered the “hearty” breakfast, so she asked what kind of potatoes I wanted.
“I’m in Atlanta; it would be wrong for me to not order grits.” I chided.
“It would be a sin if you didn’t order cheese grits.” She retorted with a wink.
“What time does the bar open?” I asked innocently.
She laughed, “Honey this herr an airport. Bars don’t close none.”
“In that case I’ll take a Bloody Mary.”
“And it’s all on me. Run a tab.” A booming voice commanded from my left side. I looked up and before I could fix my lips to say no, he waved off my waitress who winked at me as she left. Back then I was better at keeping a blank stare on my face, so I took the exquisiteness of this man undetected. He had to have been six foot five easily with the stature of a Live Oak. His cocoa complexion and sugar smile was mesmerizing, but I intentionally broke the spell.
“Have a seat,” I said gesturing to the empty space across from me.
He sat down, “I was wondering if I had to get you drunk first before you offered.”
He smiled.
I smirked.
We made cordial chit-chat.
He was from Chicago.
Myself, well I told him, Philly. It is always so much easier than getting into the demographics of Jersey.
Neither one of us were married; our cheeks must have hurt from smiling at that realization.
We talked.
Playfully argued about the Sixers vs Bulls/ Phillies vs Cubs
Cheesesteaks vs Deep Dish Pizza
We found out we were both waiting for the same delayed flight.
We drank.
And drank.
Then boarded.
We were upgraded to first class for our inconvenience.
One last Bloody Mary and I fell asleep.
Woke up to a napkin tucked in my shirt with a note scrawled upon it.
Thank you for the greatest trip that led to nowhere. Let me know if you ever wanna see a Cubs game.
M
(Phone number included.)
Prompt: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/terminal-time/
Photo Credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Great-Oak-113729513
Other Delays:
http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/tea-for-two/
http://underthemonkeytree.com/2014/06/10/thank-you-atlanta/
http://turboblaze09.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/omg-no-devices/
http://justkate914.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/daily-post-terminal-time/
http://activearmywife.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/paperbacks/
bohemiangypsy 