February 1st, 1990

February 1st, 1990

Night flight from JFK – LHR

With a total of twelve passengers onboard this Boeing 747, it feels slightly eerie walking through the cabins, seeing all the empty seats. Some of the more senior crew are complaining about the aircraft change (we were scheduled to fly home on a TriStar.) Honestly people, is that all you have to worry about?

Rang Christopher first thing.

“Morning, I’m just ringing to see how you are and if you need anything.”

“I’m good but I’m kinda bored. I’m not used to being home this much.”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“It’s all set.”

“You got through that huge pile of papers?”



“I didn’t hit the sack ‘til three am, but yeah, I got it done. Whatcha doin?”

“I’m trying to wake up,” I said, stretching.

“Did you go out last night?”

“No but I was on the phone into the wee hours.”

“Cool.” He paused. “Or was it?”

“Yes, very cool, actually.”

“A guy?”

“Eh, yes, a chap from LA.”

“You haven’t mentioned him before.”

“I know.”

“Any reason why you haven’t?”

I sighed. “Lots.”

“Wanna come over and talk about it?”

“That’d be great, if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll be here. It’s not like I can go anywhere.”

“How about forty-five minutes?”

“Sounds good,” he said, sounding much more like his cheerful self. “I’ll make you some tea.”

I laughed. “And I’ll bring  the bagels.”


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