Oddly, depending on how you look at it, there was less sex between the
couples on their last day together, than there had been on preceding
days. Bob would have explained that emotional closeness, and the
closeness of sharing sex, are not the same thing, though they draw on
each other. Emotional closeness ... the human connection between
two souls ... is infinitely more precious than mere sexual
satisfaction. That, perhaps, is why the couples spent more time
talking softly, making and remaking plans, making promises, and trying
to order the future, before it got there. They wanted to
keep the dream alive, and all those preparations, even though everyone
should have known things rarely work out as originally planned, made
them feel like they were nailing down the future, and the dream with it.
There was, of course, the last minute, frenzied coupling of men and
women who needed each other physically, as well as emotionally, but
that didn't take long, what with passions as inflamed as they were.
Then, inevitably, there was the pain of leave taking. Couples
wanted separate cabs, instead of all being on a shuttle bus, so they
could spend as long as possible in each other's company, in private,
before they were torn apart by the bureaucracy of the airline, and
differing end points.
Crystal, Tiffany and Roberta bawled like babies, in the cab. Jane
spent the time kissing Roger, until the cabby made a joke about how, in
Arizona, having sex in the back of a cab was illegal. They
ignored him.
At the airport, leave-takings of a different sort were engaged in, as
new friends felt the sadness and loss of leaving those new
friends. Phone numbers were exchanged, and verified, and promises
of calls to be made, and pictures to be sent, were made.
They couldn't sit together as couples, though they tried. Some of
the other passengers weren't cooperative, or were already sitting by
other traveling partners. For once, Roger cursed the fact that he
was in first class, while Jane was in the back. They'd tried to
upgrade her seat, but first class was full.
Crystal found her seat, and levered herself in, by the window.
She and Woody had been split up when they boarded, with Woody going
down the right aisle, while she was directed to the left one. She
hadn't thought to talk about seats, because she had watched Roger and
Jane go through their disappointing exercise, along with Tiffany and
Chuck, who also couldn't get seats together.
As she sat, glancing out the window, she figured that, later, when the
plane was in the air, she'd go find Woody, exclaim loudly about seeing
her long lost friend, after "all these years" and beg whoever was
sitting beside him to let her catch up on old times. She pulled
her book out of her bag. She hadn't gotten a single page read
while she was in Arizona. Meeting Woody turned out to have kept
her from reading the book at all. She sighed, opened it up,
and got ready to get at least a page read.
"Eleven-D" she heard the flight attendant say. "Here we
are. The aisle seat, there, is eleven-D. You were just on
the wrong side of the plane, that's all. Have a nice flight."
Crystal was sitting in eleven-E. Her seatmate was here. Oh
boy. She didn't look up. She heard the overhead compartment
door slam shut, and a shadow fell over her book. She tilted it to
let the light from the window illuminate it better.
"Hi," came a man's voice.
Crystal's eyes snapped to her left, and up, to see Woody's face leering down at her.
"My goodness, but you're a tall one," he said, attempting to look down
her blouse. "How's the air up there?" He grinned.
"Are those hot air balloons under your blouse, or are you actually that
tall?"
A woman in front of them turned, and peered between the seats,
frowning. She obviously disapproved of Woody making fun of a tall
woman.
"My name's Woody," he said, sticking his hand out. "And you must
be one of those female professional basketball players. Or are
you just a groupie for the Harlem Glob Trotters?" He
laughed, a braying and very annoying laugh.
"Woody, is it?" asked Crystal sweetly.
"That's right my extra tall new friend," he said expansively. "It's a nickname I got cause of what's in my pants."
"Well I NEVER!" gasped the woman in the next seat up. She
unbuckled her seat belt and stood up. She turned around and shook
her finger at Woody.
"I'm going to have you thrown off this airplane, you filthy man!"
shouted the woman. "We have rights, and we don't have to put up
with that ... that ... that CRAP!" she shouted. It was obvious
she had pulled out her big gun, using the worst word in her vocabulary.
Crystal held up her hand.
"It's really no problem, Ma'am," she said. "I'm a black belt in
fugitsu, and I know three ways to strike this vermin with only one
finger, and make it look like he died of a heart attack." She
smiled sweetly.
Woody made a theatrical, but very audible gulping sound.
"I'm sorry lady, no offense. Don't kill me ... please. I
have three hungry children, and a crop in the field. I was just
trying to have a little fun."
"You just learn to mind your manners!" snapped the old woman in the
next seat up. She nodded approvingly at Crystal, who gave her the
thumbs up sign. She turned around and sat back down, carefully
buckling her seat belt.
Woody sat down next to Crystal, leaned over and kissed her briefly, and showed her his ticket.
"Who would have thought it?" he grinned.
"Three hungry children and a crop in the field?" her eyebrows rose.
"It's from that Kenny Rogers song, "You Picked A Fine Time To Leave Me
Lucille", he said. "It was all I could think of on the spur of
the moment. I was too scared of your ... what was it ...
fugitsu?" He grinned.
"Hey," she whispered. "I know Judo, and Karate, and seven other
dangerous oriental words. I just couldn't remember them. It
was all I could come up with on the spur of the moment. Couldn't
you have just come and sat down beside me?"
"What?" He looked astonished. "And miss my chance to make fun of the tall girl?"
Crystal turned away from him and brought her book up in front of her face. She turned it upside down.
"OK," he sighed. "Be that way. We're only sitting together
until Denver. You're going to miss your big chance to join the
mile high club. How do you do it on an airplane,
anyway? There's no way we can do it in one of these seats."
"Woody!" said Crystal, her voice a loud whisper, and full of scorn.
The woman in front turned around again, and peered through gap in the
seats. Woody pretended to be asleep, with his head on Crystal's
shoulder. Her hand came and pushed his head hard, making him lean
clear into the aisle.
"Whoa, turbulence!" he moaned. "Where are the airsick bags?"
"Would you STOP it!?" came Crystal's exasperated voice. "You're making me sorry I ever MET you!"
The woman in front started punching the stewardess button
repeatedly. No one came, because they were all starting to serve
complimentary soft drinks and bags of peanuts. The woman kept
punching the button, like people continuously punch an elevator button,
even though it does absolutely no good whatsoever.
Ten minutes later, when the drink cart finally got to them, the woman
complained mightily that Woody was harassing "that nice young woman by
the window, back there".
The stewardess took the complaint very seriously, frowning as hard as she could.
"It's OK," said Crystal. "I'm going to marry him."
"Oh!" said the flight attendant, looking confused. The woman up front looked confused too.
"Yes, and then I can make him pay for his misdeeds every day, for the rest of his miserable life."
The flight attendant, for lack of any other avenue of justice, reached out and took Woody's peanuts back.
After that, they decided that it was much better to spend their last
couple of hours doing something more productive than teasing their
neighbors. They talked quietly until the plane landed in Denver,
and the whole group was able to reassemble, until they had to go to
different gates to fly the rest of the way home.
