Airport Scenes

One.
I saw them while casually people watching on the second floor balcony.

He's in a pressed grey suit, a little heavy for the early spring heat, Steve Jobs glasses, and well-waxed leather shoes. She's seran wrapped in a spaghetti top and faded denims. His salt and pepper strands were combed to mean business; her dark roots were peeking through the faux blond.

They clung onto each other, leaving his overpriced carry on to stand alone in the midst of a crowded airport. She grabbed him tightly, burying her head in his neck. All of a sudden, she looked up, and watched me watching her. She stepped away, twisted her back to him, and stood apart. He gave her a respectful moment and then went to her again.

She turned around, but this time I glanced away quickly. The amount of mascara that ran down her cheeks testified to a girl waking up extra early to create the perfect look for her man.

They whispered frantically. She kept patting her stomach. He stole glances at his watch behind her back.

Two.

Simba ate his first worm and made a face as Timon and Pumba sang Hakuna Matata.

He laughed so hard that he choked on and spilled his apple juice. He scrambled around for a clean napkin, but not before pausing the inflight entertainment screen. He brushed off the cookie crumbs on his chin and scratched his balding head before pressing play again.

Beside him, his five year old son slept.

Three.

He hung behind the crowds, reading business class notes on the ipad, while keeping a careful eye on the arrival gate. He chose to wear his new tailored shirt and tan slacks that day, probably because she had mentioned that the pants look nice, and even bought an iron for the occasion. She came out later than the others, strolling by without seeing him. He hurried over to her and offered to push her lugguage trolley.

She was startled and then smiled because of him and the pants.

It's been a week and he was picking me up.