June 20th, 1990

June 20th, 1990

Flight from LGW – JFK

I’ve been up for twenty-six hours and feel I could sleep for a week but wow, it’s great to be back in The Big Apple. Flight was seriously delayed, enough so that we almost went out of hours, which on a trip with a quick flight time is unheard of.

My room is located on one of the executive floors and the view from the bathroom is utterly insane. Ah, how I love this city with the yellow taxis and the tall buildings and the crowds and the noise. Oh, the noise!

With the lengthy delay, I expected a quiet night in but the mere sight of the skyline rejuvenated me. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the same effect on anybody else so there was nobody to go out with. I rang David but couldn’t get a hold of him so I thought I might go for a walk but it was one of those evenings where the air felt balmy and I really fancied watching the world go by, preferably with a cocktail in hand, so I rang Christopher.

He was still at work (I reminded him that it was half eight!) but said he was happy to hear from me and would come straight to the hotel. Twenty minutes later, I met him in the lobby and was, as always, thrilled to see him.

“You look tan.”

“Remnants from Antigua,” I laughed.

“You got paid to go to Antigua?”

“Yup,” I said, stepping into the revolving door.

We found the perfect spot to sit and people watch at a little bar just up the street from the hotel. Christopher ordered his signature drink; “Margarita, rocks, no salt,” and I ordered a pomegranate Martini (which was delish!)

As usual, we fell into an easy conversation about where we’ve been and what we’ve been doing.

“So,” he said, a few sips into our third drink (oops!) “Give me the latest in the BK saga.”

“Ah, let’s see. There’s actually not much to report on the Ben and Karen saga, he moved away, which is probably a good thing.”

“Interesting. And nobody else has showed up and swept you off your feet?”

I made a little disapproving sound and opened my mouth to speak but before I could, Christopher raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“I know, I know,” he laughed. “You can stand on your own two feet, I just meant it as a figure of speech.”

“Well in that case,” I laughed. “No, I don’t believe so.”

We started talking about the Antigua trip and for some reason I mentioned William and before I knew it, I was telling Christopher all sorts about my time with William, which is weird, because he really wasn’t my type.

“I seem to prefer blondes,” I said, suddenly changing the subject.

Christopher pulled on a strand of his thick, dark hair. “Guess I’m out,” he chuckled.

 

 

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