Paris

Here I am in Paris, France, the land of the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and fashion. No, this is not my final destination. I'm trying to catch my connecting flight to Belgium, which consequently, I did not catch. Apparently, my flight from Atlanta to Paris was delayed due to changing wind patterns, storms over the Pacific, and other mumbo jumbo that the airlines have used to sugarcoat the fact that I am in Paris for the night, but stuck in the airport. Did you hear that? I'm in one of the most beautiful, cultural cities in the world for longer than I expected, and yet, I am stuck in the airport till tomorrow morning at9:55. It's hard to see life through rose-colored glasses at a time like this.

I am slightly optimistic, because I just happened to find a certain alcove in this airport where they had some comfortable leather chairs. Score! I am now set up with wifi, my bags are safely at my feet, and I'm situated in just the right spot to read and later curl up and sleep, hopefully.

I am slightly pessimistic though, because the same man who deemed it necessary to speak to me on the plane also has a hideous habit of turning up wherever I am. He is now sitting in the same alcove as me in a chair similar to my own. Now I feel guilty about writing about him when he's sitting right there, less than 6 feet away. I'm going to study him for a while.

Here's what I've figured out. He is, in fact, very good-looking. A few years older than me, perhaps his late 20's, early 30's. He possesses a fine head of dark hair and he definitely did not shave before he hopped on the plane this morning. I can't tell you what color his eyes are. They are at this moment conveniently closed. Otherwise I would not be studying him. How rude. But I wonder why he's here. Perhaps he too filled out a small internet survey and is on his way to Belgium. Or maybe he is a world traveling salesman who sells hair gel. Or someone's husband traveling across Europe for business (scratch that idea. no ring on his finger). Or maybe he is just trying to get where he's going without too much fuss, but just like me, he's stuck somewhere he doesn't want to be. This isn't good. I can't start feeling pity for someone I don't even know, who I invented a story for! Oh no. He's opening his eyes. Should I say something?

Me: (moment of awkward silence as I debate saying something)

Him: Hello, it seems as though we always seem to end up in the same places.

Me: Yeah. (real intelligent, I know)

Him: I'm sorry if it looks as if I'm following you. You just happened to find one of the only comfortable spots in the whole airport.

Me: Oh, no, I'm sure you're not following me on purpose. And these are fairly comfy chairs. They even have some bounce to them.

Him: (small chuckle) Yes. Hopefully they'll be good enough to sleep on for the night. My plane doesn't leave till 9:55 tomorrow morning.

Me: Oh really? Where are you headed? Because that's when my flight leaves too. (Stop giving out information like that!)

Him: Belgium. and you?

Me: The same. I hear they have wonderful chocolate there.

Him: Oh yes. They do have delicious chocolate. My sister will often send some to me, since she lives there.

Me: (He has a good reason for going to Belgium. Interesting.) That must be nice. I'm sure it will be pleasant to visit her. (a small smile)

Him: It's been 4 years since I've seen her, so it will be good to be together again.
. . . You look tired. Perhaps we should both get some sleep?

Me: (trying not to mind that he just insulted me by telling me I look tired...but, I am tired) I have figured out that my purse can actually be made into somewhat of a pillow. Sadly, I have no extra purse to offer to you. I hope you're still able to get some rest.

He smiles and then we both turn to settle ourselves in for the night. The lights are going off in the airport, and I think I may be able to get some sleep. I check my phone one more time. No texts, although I never thought to check if I even get service here. As I'm about to close my eyes, I realize I don't even know the name of my mysterious follower. Hmmmm. *yawn*