December 5th, 1989

December 5th, 1989

Hotel Inter Continental, Muscat, Oman

Lovely, relaxing day on the beach with Catherine, a girl on my crew who, at six feet one, makes stowing luggage in the overhead bins look easy! She’s absolutely stunning; beyond slender (ugh!) with deep chestnut hair and green eyes, absolutely the type of girl that turns heads wherever she goes.

Catherine just got engaged and is now the proud owner of a ring I’d guess is at least three carats heavy! When I commented on how much her princess cut diamond sparkled, she pulled it off her finger.

“Here,” she said. “Try it on.”

“No, I can’t do that.”

“Go ahead,” she urged. “See if you like it.”

“I already know I like it,” I laughed.

“Then try it on.”

“Sorry, I can’t, that’s too weird.”

You’re weird,” she laughed. “It’s just a ring.”

“It’s your engagement ring.”

“I’m sure it won’t be my only one.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond so I didn’t.

“Tobias is only cabin crew so I expect at some point I’ll want to trade up.”

I honestly couldn’t tell if she was joking so I said, “Of course,” just to see how she’d react.

“I’m glad you understand,” she said. “Most girls wouldn’t”

With my question answered, I said, “How do you think it’ll work with both of you flying?”

“We’ll do married rosters.”

“What does that mean?”

“We’ll fly together.”

“All the time?” I asked.

“Ya, of course.”

“On every trip?”

She laughed. “Yes! Do you think you’d have a problem doing that?”

I thought about Ben and quickly came to the conclusion that even in our heyday, I’d have found it difficult to not only live with him but also work with him. All the time!

“Karen? Where’d you go?” She asked, waving her hand in front of me.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about someone.”

“Who? Fill me in!”

“There’s nothing to tell. It’s an old relationship that needs to be put to bed.”

“Plenty of fish in the sea,” she said, winking.

I’d planned on staying in tonight but Catherine reminded me I did that last night. We ate at the Car Park then popped in to see if anything was happening at the hotel disco. Catherine immediately spotted someone she knew and while he made his way over, I asked, “Who’s he?”

“I can’t remember his name but he was great in bed,” she purred. “We had a wild trip fling in Bermuda. I think it was Bermuda? Maybe it was the Bahamas.”

Half an hour later, I’d had enough of the tacky music so I left Catherine, towering over her bed buddy at the bar, kissing wildly.

 

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