a dearth of firsts
You know when you've been around the block a few times and everything becomes old hat? Like, you can't get it up with the same stiffness anymore because you've seen the movie already or taken in the ocean view before or rode that mechanical bull one too many times? You know what that's like? Well, neither do I.
Tonight, I will be taking my first plane ride with the boyfriend. It's a special flight for me because I have never taken a flight with him nor any boyfriend before and the rarity of something being a first for me, for me with him, us as couple is not lost on my sentimentality. I have taken many planes in my life; flown with my family to and from Toronto, flown with friends to San Francisco, flown with an old roommate to Paris. On these and other flights, I have always been fascinated with the array of travelers in my company. There are strangers I've spoken to and there are strangers I've observed. Single fliers are ho hum. Single fliers futz with their overhead light, order Diet Coke, read Business Week magazine or a shitty Danielle Steele tome and usually smell like hand soap. Single fliers fall sleep with their heads tipped forward as if inspecting their belly buttons. Single fliers bore me.
Those who fly together are fascinating. Parents with their children, a husband with his mistress, friends on spring break; they all have lives and relationships outside of the tin can known as the plane's cabin, the details of which are left up to my imagination. I see the cashmere of their sweaters, the condition of their carry-on luggage. I hear bites of their conversations "...excited to see grandma?" "...hooker at the supermarket..." all clues to their reality. This is where I begin to drift away into the fanciful land where these people are king and queens. But wild and outlandish family histories rife with deceit and scandal are suddenly tethered when the mother retrieves the sippy cup from the floor and returns it to the baby's mouth. The mistress asks the husband for Visine. The co-eds sit side by side yet miles apart thanks to earphones attached to iPods: mini, nano and video. I touch my stout little plastic cup of ginger ale and realize how everyone is normal. I didn't think they would be boring like me. But they are.
Even before meeting the boyfriend, I always held couples in a special regard. When I would see them on airplanes, I would imagine their trips to be romantic and loving. Every couple was taking their first trip together. Boyfriends put girlfriends jackets into overhead compartments with care. Girlfriends leaned over sleeping boyfriends to order the coffees the sleeping boyfriends would eventually want when they awoke. The moments were tender. I would admire them from my seat, in-flight magazine on my seat tray, selectively ignoring their bickering. It was them against the world, them traveling to another city to smell foreign smells and devour foreign treats.
There are the "firsts" that I've had with the boyfriend specifically; our inaugural kiss, my debut at a dinner party for one of HIS friends, the Hollywood premier of our holding hands but those intrinsic events have happened before with other boys. Tonight, I am the luckiest girl in the world because I am going to sit next to my man for the first time on a plane to Chicago. It is our first adventure in flight and it doesn't matter if he falls asleep before we take off or if he makes me carry my own bags or if someone overhears me say "Did I tell you I saw corn in my poo?" The longer we are together, the fewer firsts we will have. We will have to become increasingly creative with our joint endeavors if we want to keep things interesting. So for now, I am savoring a simple plane ride. I am creating my first memory and the possibilities are sky high.
Tonight, I will be taking my first plane ride with the boyfriend. It's a special flight for me because I have never taken a flight with him nor any boyfriend before and the rarity of something being a first for me, for me with him, us as couple is not lost on my sentimentality. I have taken many planes in my life; flown with my family to and from Toronto, flown with friends to San Francisco, flown with an old roommate to Paris. On these and other flights, I have always been fascinated with the array of travelers in my company. There are strangers I've spoken to and there are strangers I've observed. Single fliers are ho hum. Single fliers futz with their overhead light, order Diet Coke, read Business Week magazine or a shitty Danielle Steele tome and usually smell like hand soap. Single fliers fall sleep with their heads tipped forward as if inspecting their belly buttons. Single fliers bore me.
Those who fly together are fascinating. Parents with their children, a husband with his mistress, friends on spring break; they all have lives and relationships outside of the tin can known as the plane's cabin, the details of which are left up to my imagination. I see the cashmere of their sweaters, the condition of their carry-on luggage. I hear bites of their conversations "...excited to see grandma?" "...hooker at the supermarket..." all clues to their reality. This is where I begin to drift away into the fanciful land where these people are king and queens. But wild and outlandish family histories rife with deceit and scandal are suddenly tethered when the mother retrieves the sippy cup from the floor and returns it to the baby's mouth. The mistress asks the husband for Visine. The co-eds sit side by side yet miles apart thanks to earphones attached to iPods: mini, nano and video. I touch my stout little plastic cup of ginger ale and realize how everyone is normal. I didn't think they would be boring like me. But they are.
Even before meeting the boyfriend, I always held couples in a special regard. When I would see them on airplanes, I would imagine their trips to be romantic and loving. Every couple was taking their first trip together. Boyfriends put girlfriends jackets into overhead compartments with care. Girlfriends leaned over sleeping boyfriends to order the coffees the sleeping boyfriends would eventually want when they awoke. The moments were tender. I would admire them from my seat, in-flight magazine on my seat tray, selectively ignoring their bickering. It was them against the world, them traveling to another city to smell foreign smells and devour foreign treats.
There are the "firsts" that I've had with the boyfriend specifically; our inaugural kiss, my debut at a dinner party for one of HIS friends, the Hollywood premier of our holding hands but those intrinsic events have happened before with other boys. Tonight, I am the luckiest girl in the world because I am going to sit next to my man for the first time on a plane to Chicago. It is our first adventure in flight and it doesn't matter if he falls asleep before we take off or if he makes me carry my own bags or if someone overhears me say "Did I tell you I saw corn in my poo?" The longer we are together, the fewer firsts we will have. We will have to become increasingly creative with our joint endeavors if we want to keep things interesting. So for now, I am savoring a simple plane ride. I am creating my first memory and the possibilities are sky high.
posted by Katie at 12:53 PM
1 Comments:
this is an exciting first!
i miss you. xoxo.
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