Deplane

I mentioned that my flight to CA was delayed on Sunday. Boarding should have started at 12:30. At 12:45, I decided the 1:00 departure time would surely be pushed back. Since there was more talking than paper shuffling and moving toward opening the door, I settled in for a bit of a wait.

"There is a mechanical problem with the plane," the agent finally announced. The crowd responded with general grumblings and sighs when she said she didn't know more than that. I sat where I could see the board and watched the estimate departure move in 15 minute increments to later and later times. What frustrated me, just an aside, was that each time would have indicated we should begin boarding immediately and that wasn't happening.

We herded toward a new gate when instructed to do so, each of us shuffling eagerly while waiting to elbow our way to a spot on the escalator. We hurried toward the new gate only to find seats so we could wait another hour or so. People complained about missing connecting flights, wondered why we weren't offered free stuff and sighed when even this departure time started to scoot toward later times again.

"Yay," I offered weakly to my group of complaining passengers when we were allowed on the plane. Then I sat in a window seat next to a disgruntled couple who were heading home after a lengthy east coast vacation. I nibbled at the sandwich I purchased hours before and took out my laptop to finish the last bits of work I'd brought on the trip.

"Just to let you know what's happening," a flight attendant said over the intercom after we'd all been seated about 20 minutes, "someone saw that headrests were broken and once they're reported, they have to be fixed before we can leave. So a mechanic is going to do some paperwork, then he'll board and just placard the broken seats so we can get on our way."

We soon found ourselves frowning at a man who moved slower than my dad (which I didn't know was possible) came and chatted with passengers as he carefully removed the broken headrests, draped the seats with copious amounts of red tape and placed several 'Broken! Do not use!' stickers on the seats. There were 10 broken seats. We waited over an hour for the single man to go on and off the plane, removing headrests and placing tape. Then we finally flew for 3 hours or so to arrive on the west coast.

I smiled when I saw the man seated in front of me haltingly answer his seatmate's questions. I craned my neck to see if he was cute - he was passable - and decided that she wasn't the prettiest woman in the world. Yet she flirted hard and he unsuccessfully tried to sleep or listen to music or read. I was a bit surprised to see him ask a couple of questions once we landed and were waiting - there at the back of the plane - to disembark.

"Here," she said, scribbling her email address and phone number on a scrap of paper. "And what's your email?"

When he gave it to her, I wondered if it was the relief of almost being off the plane. Of arriving - better late than never - at our destination. Perhaps the happiness had gone to his head - the joy of almost being done had made him rattle off a string of letter and characters that may or may not have allowed her to contact him later.

I'd write it off but a similar thing happened on my flight back. I'd noticed a man wearing some sort of shoulder holster thing. The embroidered leather fit over his arms, kind of like a backpack worn in reverse, and two white feathers dangled down the middle of his back. I frowned at him while we waited at the gate before boarding, wondering if he was carrying a baby in some sort of befeathered papoose.

Nope, I decided when I saw him in profile, nary a child dangling from his front. The leather and feathers must just be for pretty.

Oh, I sighed when I saw him sitting in the window seat of my assigned row. He shifted to allow me to sit in the middle seat and the light pouring in from the sunny day bounced off the glitter on his t-shirt. Fantastic, I thought with a barely stifled smile. He's sparkly and feathery. Through the lengthy flight home, I watched him curiously out of the corner of my eye. He watched a video on his laptop that was, I decided, about metaphysical concepts. Then he very carefully read his own tarot cards and spent time examining each card in the deck one by one.

"I would have asked Glitter-Feather man about them," I told Friend as she drove me home last night, "but he had headphones on. Headphones very clearly state a person doesn't welcome interruptions, so I followed the rules and left him alone."

"That wasn't so bad," he said, his voice quiet and a little scratchy when the plane landed. Since all he'd asked so far was if he could close the window and if I'd move to allow him to use the rest room (I said sure to both, of course.), I glanced at him and smiled before nodding. I was again located at the back of the plane and sighed with pleasure as I scooted away from Glitter-Feather man and into Flannel man's aisle seat (he'd stood in the aisle when the fasten seatbelt sign dinged and extinguished).

"Are you going somewhere else or staying here?" I asked, for the flight was scheduled to continue on after it dropped some of us off.

"Driving south," he said and mentioned an event he was to attend. We spoke about that for a few minutes and he smiled at my responses.

"I hope you have a good time," I offered.

"It'd be impossible not to," he replied.

"Isn't it hot?" I asked with a frown.

"During the day," he confirmed. "But that's part of the fun. Plus it cools down at night."

"Do you camp?" I asked curiously and he nodded again.

"Have you ever been?" he asked and I shook my head and laughed. "How come?" he continued with a tilt of his head. I glanced to see the line of first class passengers finally begin to exit the plane in the distance and shrugged.

"I don't like to be hot. And I never camp." He thought about that for a moment while I took a phone call from Friend and promised I'd hurry to her restricted parking area.

"You could go somewhere up north," he offered when he had my attention again. "Get a hotel." I nodded my agreement absently. "Will your ride leave if you're late?" he asked.

"No," I laughed. "It'll be fine - she'll wait. Which is good since I have very little control over the situation right now."

"It's always fine," he said with a smile that made him strikingly attractive. I smiled back without thinking about it.

"Thus far, it always has been fine," I agreed, but felt compelled to add the qualifier.

"It always will be fine," he said firmly.

I thought about it for a moment - and could think about it more right now - but stayed silent as we finally got our turns to shuffle slowly down the aisle toward the jetway. I don't know what my response would have been had there been extra time to indulge in 'thank goodness we're finally here, OK I'll talk to this person for a minute' conversation.

On one hand, it will be fine. I know that, though I can't obtain the zen-like calm to wear sparkly clothes and leather/feather creations. But it will be OK.

On the other hand, I'm Still Freaking Out. I talked to Adam and Eve today. Adam was "surprised and confused" about why I talked to Drug Company at all. "What about the position here concerns you?" he asked.

"Nothing," I replied promptly. "Except I didn't know what was going on - if you'd interviewed someone else or had problems with upper management. So it made sense to look when they seemed so interested."

"I have a cubicle reserved for you," he offered, "and your time is already 50-80% scheduled. Trips to take, people to meet, things to do." And I nodded and said I was ready - I just needed to see an official offer. Yet I think about Eve and how she gave me hugs and is rushing the process to accommodate my timelines. And while I know that either job is a wonderful opportunity and that Industry seems more comfortable and right to me, I'm still struggling.

So I'm eagerly anticipating the happy relief I'll feel when I finally decide between places. And thinking that I might be peppy enough to give my email address to someone I don't really like or offer assurances about the goodness of life to a stranger on a plane. But for now, I'm glancing at my watch far too often and trying to calculate the time before I can make a decision. I need numbers and offers and negotiating points for both opportunities. And I don't have them yet.

Maybe I should have interrupted Glitter-Feather man to ask about my future after all.