Handsome

First leg of the trip.

 

Overloaded suitcase not even zipped all the way. Lady says, "Excuse me ma'am but your suitcase isn't closed all the way."

 

"Yeah, I know. I don't think it CAN be closed all the way."

 

"Would you like for me to try?"

 

"Sure."

 

No bueno. 

 

It weighed a ton too. 

 

I just wanted on the plane with my 'personal' item, my schnauzer. Plus, don't tell anyone, I also had a backpack stuffed to the gills. 

 

Yep, hot mess comes to mind, per usual. 

 

I make it to my window seat, eventually, after crawling over a rather attractive gentleman. But not before he lifts the motherlode for me into the overhead compartment. He was all, "I've got it." 

 

Yeah, he's got it. Fine as frog hair. Lifted that suitcase like it was light as a feather. 

 

There was something about him. 

 

You know. 

 

You know in your knower you know. 

 

My radar is accurate 99.9% of the time, guaranteed. 

 

Law enforcement of some sort. 

 

Nothing obvious. 

 

Never is. 

 

There's something about 'those' types and me. 

 

Security, LEO, agencies of all sorts, military, Marshall, you name it. Story of my life. Stories of my life. Good stories. Good people.

 

I'm just trying to fly to the desert to quietly work for a bit, get away, work, go somewhere I've never been, do things I've never done, escape, and BAM. Here he sits beside me, neon flashing lights. His eyes just a twinkling. 

 

Shake my head. 

 

I've had a very difficult time moving past a relationship that never should have been. Nothing nefarious. I knew better though. It became more and lasted. And lasted. I had to end it and I did. I don't know that I'll ever get over it. In eleven years, post-divorce (or perhaps ever) I've never experienced what I experienced during the last several years. 

 

Depth. 

 

A family member told me I needed to find another man to help me get over this one. I love her dearly. She made me laugh. 

 

I tuck Maggie Rose under the seat in front of me, put my backpack between the wall of the plane and my knees. Preparing for takeoff the flight attendant spots my backpack, orders it put in the overhead compartment. Pretty boy looks my way, eyes twinkling yet again, ornery smile quickly crossing his handsome face. 

 

"I'll get it."

 

Smiling, equally mischievous, I hand it over to him, pink flatiron dangling out of the pack. 

 

"Good luck."

 

All settled we quietly fly to Salt Lake City with an older lady sliding in-between the two of us for the flight. 

 

Thank goodness. 

 

He unloads ALL my baggage once we land. 

 

"Maybe you need  to continue to Sedona." 

 

He didn't say no.