. . . make it into entertainment for everyone else.
Instead of boring you with another whine session about how I never get enough sleep, I'm going to relate an experience I had over the summer, when I flew on an airplane by myself for the first time.
I am in the line to get my boarding pass. I feel embarrassed because I'm caught in between a small group of men, all what I would call "sophisticated men of class". Tall, simple but classy clothes, model hairdos, and the slightest facial scruff. I feel vulnerable between the white guy who looks like a Macey's model and the black guy who is so . . . smooth, cool. I hate to admit it, but it is impossible to deny their attractiveness. I feel so undeniable small, asking myself why in the world I decided to wear a big bow in my hair today. I think to myself, "they're probably looking at me like I'm a lost puppy", as they talk over me (literally - these guys are tall, remember?). I try to appear as composed and gathered as I can.
Clearly, all of them are traveling together for some sort of business venture. I try for what seems like ages to think of a way to express that I don't mind if the one behind me goes ahead, so I'm not caught in the middle anymore. I just want to get out of the uncomfortable sandwich situation.
I'm suddenly aware that the man behind me is starting to inch forward on the right side of me, as if trying to make conversation with his co-worker easier. The other starts narrating, "Whoah! Making his move in the right lane!" as if we are race cars and he is passing. I figure this is as good a chance as any to say something.
"If you both are together, you can go ahead. I don't mind," I say as cordially and professionally, but anything but sweetly, as I can.
As one mumbles "Oh no that's alright," the other boldly states, "Oh, no, we're not together."
My cheeks rush with scarlet as I realize what that just sounded like.
He has the audacity to add, "He doesn't even like me."
I stumble, with something like, "No, I meant, like . . . uh . . ."
As they chuckle to themselves, the black-and-white floor tiles suddenly become extremely intriguing.
I guess my pre-school teacher was right about not talking to strangers.