When I was just-turned-17, I flew for the first time at 10 am and got stuck in a blizzard in the Detroit airport for many hours. I glommed on to what I deemed to be a gorgeous guy, probably in his 20s, traveling with his mother. I had fantasies about staying overnight in the airport with him, or perhaps they’d invite me to their home, without knowing even where that might be. He was tall and had very curly hair and laughed a lot, and I thought I could easily love him, though I had a boyfriend waiting for me in the airport in Grand Rapids. They finally took us by cab, the first cab went off the road, and the second cab got me to the boyfriend, who was still waiting at 2 am, whereupon I forgot about the curly-haired guy. I went home with my dopey boyfriend who was a year younger than me but who faithfully waited and got me home safely (and then spent the rest of the night with me since my parents were away and for some reason trusted me—or maybe they’d given up.)
This story reads very colorful and alive to me, and likewise inspires me to consider shortening my own essays.
But most of all, thank you for not writing anything else after, ”..and I imagined her in a helmet, speeding down the highway, soaring right over the Atlantic.”...
When I was just-turned-17, I flew for the first time at 10 am and got stuck in a blizzard in the Detroit airport for many hours. I glommed on to what I deemed to be a gorgeous guy, probably in his 20s, traveling with his mother. I had fantasies about staying overnight in the airport with him, or perhaps they’d invite me to their home, without knowing even where that might be. He was tall and had very curly hair and laughed a lot, and I thought I could easily love him, though I had a boyfriend waiting for me in the airport in Grand Rapids. They finally took us by cab, the first cab went off the road, and the second cab got me to the boyfriend, who was still waiting at 2 am, whereupon I forgot about the curly-haired guy. I went home with my dopey boyfriend who was a year younger than me but who faithfully waited and got me home safely (and then spent the rest of the night with me since my parents were away and for some reason trusted me—or maybe they’d given up.)
I love this!
This story reads very colorful and alive to me, and likewise inspires me to consider shortening my own essays.
But most of all, thank you for not writing anything else after, ”..and I imagined her in a helmet, speeding down the highway, soaring right over the Atlantic.”...
Beautiful.
Thank you. 🙏🏽