Aloha Seattle

Guess what.* I'm back in Seattle.

I flew out this morning for what really should, this time, be a two-day trip. On the plane I sat in the aisle seat next to a couple in their mid-forties that appeared to be connecting back from a vacation in Hawaii.

They were quite dear. If I had to guess I would say they were Peruvian; both were short and round with dark brown skin and black hair. I could see that her feet didn't touch the floor, and I don't think his did either.

She was wearing a flowery bathing suit cover up and may very well have had a bathing suit under it; I didn't check.

They held hands in that sweet post-vacation way, like they were extra in love with each other in this happy transitional time on the way back to normal life. She was wearing a lei and I kept getting whiffs of flowers mixed incongruously with the smell of canned air and jet fuel.

She spent part of the flight watching The Office and when she laughed should would swing her feet like a child.

I was totally enchanted with them.

The plane finally landed, taxied, and came to a final stop at the gate. The seatbelt sign was turned off. Because we were at the back of the plane, I didn't move to stand up since it was clearly going to be a few more minutes before there was anywhere to go.

"Can I get out?" she asked me in a thick accent.

"There's nowhere to go," I snarled at her.

"But I want to stand up," she said to me.

"Fine." I said shortly and squeezed out into the aisle which was already crammed with people. She squeezed out into it as well, followed by her lover. We stood there squashed together uncomfortably for at least four minutes before the aisle finally cleared.

She collected a Hawaiian wood sculpture from the overhead bin along with another beachy sarong and shuffled on her short legs down the aisle in front of me.

Aloha, lady.



*Yes, chicken butt.