You may remember in the movie, "Citizen Kane," the statement by one of the characters about seeing a girl on a ferry boat one day, seeing her for only one second, but remembering her for the rest of his life.
"I'll bet a month hasn't gone by since," he says, "that I haven't thought of that girl."
I think most of us have memories like that, of a person, or persons, we never met, and didn't know, but remember, even if we only saw them for one second. Or we might have a long-held fantasy about a person we might see one day. I have always thought how totally romantic it would be, if someday I got on an airplane and saw, among the passengers, a face, the most beautiful face I had ever seen.
Yesterday, Tuesday, June 23, 2009, just before 9 a.m., in Chicago, it happened. I was boarding a flight to San Diego. I was in Seat 10F and so in the last group, Group 6, to board. The airline industry is in wreckage, but they do at last know how to board a plane efficiently. The jetway wait was short, then I stepped through the door of the MD-80, glanced left at the pilots in the cockpit, and turned the corner around the closet into the aisle through First Class.
I glimpsed her around a shoulder in front of me. Honey-streaked blonde, a flash of brow, porcelain in the window light, and arched eyebrows. Instantly I was on full alert. There was a momentary jam-up, and then people parted, and there she was. Shoulder-length blonde, radiant skin, the arched brows, stunning facial mathematics, high cheekbones, full lips, good chin, everything. She was reading: "A Short History of Women," so she was not literary, but engaged in the world. And she was seated in First Class.
Normally one does not reveal emotion in a cabin cramped with strangers, but if I did not speak, I knew I would regret it the rest of my life. She was in Seat 5B, on the aisle, and as I reached her, I said, "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life." She looked up and smiled. Beautiful smile. White, straight teeth. Her eyes were green or hazel. "Oh, go on," she said, the smile segueing into a grin. So she was a good sport. "Are you meeting someone in San Diego?" I said, barely believing my brazenness. "Shhh," she said. So she was shy, too! "Maybe we could get together," I said. She was tickled, but too embarrassed to respond. I couldn't believe someone so beautiful could be so, well, normal. I thought I had better shut up. Besides, I had had my fantasy moment. "Don't forget my offer," I said over my shoulder as we moved on. I was amazed, how natural it had been. I didn't know if any other passengers had reacted or not. But did it really matter? I felt different about myself, less cautious, in a way that I look forward to exploring.
From 10F I had a good view of the back of her honey-streaked head. I have always been interested in the energy that can pass through an objective space between two people, even when one is not aware of the other. I have seen girlfriend, wife, children, through a window, a block away, unaware of my watching them, and felt my heart leap, at the connection with them, invisible but as real as a radio beam passing through space. I glanced at her occasionally during the flight routine, glad that she knew I was an occupant of the planet.
I am pretty sure we were over New Mexico when I had an idea. Something I had only seen in movies. I took an airplane napkin, turned it over, and wrote a message: "Would you please deliver a glass of champagne to the delightful woman in 5B, from the gentleman in 10F." She appeared to be asleep, so I held on to the message. Then she stirred. She actually looked back, and our eyes met. We waved. In a minute I was able to get the attention of the First Class flight attendant. She read the note and grinned and walked back into First Class.
Then, horrors! The delightful woman stood up and walked forward, out of view, I supposed to the restroom. While she was gone, a second flight attendant walked back, grinned at me, and handed me a glass of champagne with a strawberry in it. "From a delighted flight attendant," she said. The woman finally came back, took her seat. The first FA appeared with a glass of champagne, leaned over her, and gave her the message. The woman looked back at me and smiled, and I gave her a casual salute, Maurice Chevalier-style. And that was that. A fantasy fulfilled, a memory etched indelibly.
We landed, got off, and she was waiting for me in the concourse. You wouldn't believe how cool it is when a fantasy shifts into reality. I am the woman's husband. It doesn't matter how we were sitting in separate sections, except to say it enabled the fantasy. I took her arm, we collected our luggage, and went home, which was my First Class trip for the day.
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