World's Shortest Relationship

Have you seen that ad on television with the young guy about to board a train, who peers into the one stopped in front of him and locks eyes with a young woman?  Obviously he's not intended to be on the same train with her, but as they look at each other, their whole lives race across the screen but in reverse: their son is the 59th President of the United States, they're bringing him to school as a child, she's pregnant, they're getting married, their first kiss, all leading back to this one moment in time.  Had this young man not had the 4G mobile access to at&t, he couldn't have changed his train ticket to in turn change his destiny, providing him with the only opportunity to meet the girl who would bring about all that we'd just witnessed.  Well...I'm pretty sure I had one of those moments yesterday.

I was flying back from a work-related conference in Minneapolis (hence my lack of posting, I humbly apologize for my 5-day silence).  It was a pretty uneventful trip on the whole, (as a Georgian, I must mention that it was 68 degrees in Minneapolis mid-afternoon on Monday...in July...in the middle of downtown.  And yes, that's Fahrenheit, folks.) but I learned a lot and got a much needed visual break from my home-to-work/ work-to-home broken record.  As I settled into the flight home, the pilot announced that we'd been delayed yet again due to the day's monstrous storms hammering the Metro Atlanta area.  More than willing to sacrifice a few hours of my time circling the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains instead of white-knuckling it through Mother Nature's fury, I decided that I wouldn't physically be able to make it to Hartsfield without a potty break.  As much as I despise public bathrooms with airplane facilities being second on my list only to those in parks I got in line with the rest of the bladder weary travelers.  I hadn't been paying much attention and quickly became the line leader.  A few seconds later, the door opened, and as romantic as it sounds, out stepped my perfect man. 

Okay, okay, so I didn't know him.  But, based on looks, he was perfect.  He was literally everything I like.  If I could describe my ideal looking guy to a police sketch artist, they'd pick this guy up in about 10 minutes.  As soon as he stepped out from behind that incredibly sexy, tiny, folding door into the even tinier aisle, we locked eyes, and...I don't know, something weird happened.  It was as if we were both thinking the same thing at the same moment:  "Why hadn't fate sat us together?"  I probably looked very odd, staring at him and thinking why I had been given the overly complaining, menopausal mother and her alcohol-crazed fifteen year old son (he ordered a Miller Lite from the flight attendant, for Lord's sake) to spend these four hours with when I could have easily been sitting next this guy, potentially plotting out our whimiscal, miraculously happy life together.

It could very well have been my over-romanticized brain after spending hours pouring over Elizabeth Gilbert's travels (although celibate) through Italy in "Eat, Pray, Love," and her love affair with all things Italian, including the men.  But, I really think we shared a moment there, a moment of potential, and although that moment literally was only seconds, I felt as if, had I had the chance to know this man, we would have really liked each other.

Upon arrival in Atlanta, those of us not rushing to connecting flights to other destinations were asked to hold back in our seats and let those frantic passengers disembark ahead of us.  I sprawled out a bit, relaxing for the first time in hours, even staying a bit longer than necessary, figuring that late is still late and I'd rather sit and watch others unnecessarily scurry to leave than stand in line.  As we Atlanta-bound travelers finally started making our way to the door, I collected my things and looked up to catch the gaze of my favorite fellow flier once again.  He was looking at me intently this time, almost as if he was trying to remember if we knew each other.  I did that girly thing, honestly without intention, where I looked at him, looked away quickly, then looked back and grinned.  He grinned back, but kept moving in the line.  Without saying one word.

As I deboarded, leaving behind the plane and my fantasies, I thought that, if given the chance once inside the airport, I would most definitely say hello to this guy who most definitely was not wearing a wedding band.  (I know that it's amazing that I was able to notice that particular characteristic in such a short period of acquaintance, but I'm a professional, people.)  He seemed to be traveling alone and wearing business meeting type clothing, but they were disheveled, probably revealing that his work was done and he was heading home.  Maybe Atlanta was his final destination...?  Maybe he's out there in this city of Singletons pondering how to find the girl on Delta Flight 1620 from Minneapolis to Atlanta.  I'm here...possibly right down the road, wishing fate had dealt us different cards or I'd been brave enough to just say one little word that starts every great story of two people:  "Hello."

Sidenote:  Once my phone had rebooted from it's four-hour airline enforced respite, I noticed an email from Mr. Too Many Words.  He said, in his oh-so-eloquent way, "So, you want to meet me?  Where?"  This guy makes me tired already, and I haven't even laid eyes on him.  He did include that his delay in response was due to the fact that he was in Disney World for the week.  Oddly enough, Mr. Mardi Gras also just returned from the same exotic and adult location.  Hmmm...strange pattern/coincidence?

P.S. Watch tomorrow for the first ever Lost in Singledom Guest Post!