Travelling Alone - Zaira

I stood in the queue for check in still half asleep, passport and information clasped in one hand, as the other dragged my bag behind me. It was a silly time of the morning, the time only meant for when you have not yet been to bed, not for waking up and I yawned into the back of my hand as I shifted impatiently from foot to foot. What to wear when travelling is always an issue, you never know who you will meet at the airport but at the same time hours and hours on a plane, into a different climate is a tricky call for anyone. I had changed this outfit in my head perhaps 5 or 6 times the day before and as the line snaked slowly forward I found myself wishing that I had both pre booked my seat rather than wondering how many in front were taking the better seats and leaving me in between two people I didn’t really want to be between, and that I had gone with one of the other outfits. The light summer shorts skimmed my somewhat milky thighs, top which was fitted and rose in strings over my shoulders and flat pump shoes, all of which left me shivering so early, even with the jacket on my arm.

The line seemed to be taking forever to move, some issue at the desk was not speeding it up and like all good British people, the comments and mutters were drifting around me about staff levels as I struggled to waken my sleepy body enough to already be in public. As I was approaching the desk I was vaguely aware of someone standing closer than usual behind me in the queue and I pulled my bag a little closer. When the woman at the desk called me forward, she asked at one point if we were travelling together I glanced over my shoulder, as though to check who it was even though I knew I was travelling alone and I shook my head, no we were not together. After many safety questions I was asked to select a seat, window, as it turns out the plane was not to be full and there were plenty still to choose from, at least that had been worth getting up so early for. I still had the feeling the woman behind was watching my every move and I tried to be faster at the desk, and get away.

I spent the next few hours wandering around the airport, browsing in the shops I would spend nothing in. Now and then the feeling of being watched returned, like someone who knew me was there and I glanced around, never really seeing anyone. A few times I noticed the woman who had stood close. I wondered where she was travelling too, and tried to guess from what she was wearing. I enjoyed to people watch and airports are good for this, many coming and going for all sorts of reasons, some travelling in the most casual clothing they can find and some dressed like they are ready for dinner, a club or the beach already. What she wore didn’t really help, crisp linen pants cut off just below the knee, a light, brightly coloured top which rose around her shoulders snugly and fasted behind her neck, below her hair, and wedged sandals. She carried a small bag, not a travel bag but more of a fashionable handbag, the sort you could fit half your belongings into and still have space for more.

As I sat on the edge of a cold metal chair, my toes bounced my knee up and down.. my eyes darting to the screens and back around me every couple of minutes. I noticed her two or three times more in the airport as she moved around the same group of shops I had already done so. She looked up as she left one, coming towards me and I looked away quickly, flushing as I had been caught watching her, I couldn't help but admit she was beautiful. I pulled my knees up and waited until the flight number was called when I grabbed my bag, jacket and headed for the gate. As I waited I became aware that once more, the same woman was behind me.. a few people away as I looked around, trying to appear aimless. She was on the same flight, going where I was going and I fidgeted from one foot to the other. Moving forward we were grouped as to where our seats were on the plane, and as we moved around the tunnel she was slightly in front of me. I glanced along the line of the back of her calves and found myself blushing once more. She was uniquely intriguing and for a second I wondered at my luck as to sitting near her, rather than some man who wanted to make small talk for the next 10 hours.

It was the first time I had travelled so far alone, and I wasn’t sure where exactly my seat was as I went up the wrong side of the plane, and back down the other, against the flow of people also boarding the plane. I held the boarding card, seat number in my hand and watched as she placed her bag over the same row and moved in to let me past. It took a moment before I realised and stammered embarrassingly, "I’m just in there, at the window." She looked up, watching me as I reached up to push my bag into the overhead for takeoff, feeling totally flustered as the edge of my top rose from the band of my shorts, was it me or my imagination that her hand brushed my hip as she stood, my arms still pushing at the bag, I stepped to the side and slipped in awkwardly past her. That look made my stomach turn and I was suddenly unaware of the chill I had felt in the airport and struggled to remove the jacket from my arms before I pulled at the seat belt. All the while she sat on the aisle seat, watching me. I wondered, waiting with interest to see who would take the empty seat between us. As they pulled closed the doors and secured them, I realised it would stay empty and I leaned back on my chair glad of the extra space.

As the crew rattled though the safety announcement I drifted in and out of attention, leaning over and watching out the window. Flying fascinates me though I am not sure why, it is at the same time mind numbingly dull. There is something about watching the way the planes move on the ground, the slow but determined, how they can only go forwards on their own but need help to go backwards.. the thrilling rush when at the edge of a runway the acceleration starts and you are sucked back into your chair, you are going now if you like it or not as the plane rips along the runway, followed by the slight flip of your stomach as it leaves the ground, rising higher and higher until it steadies and the pressure gradually returns to normal. Though all of this I leaned forward, at times till my nose was almost touching the window, watching the ground get further and further way, everything getting smaller till crisp white clouds whipped past the windows.

As I once more leaned back I let out a breath, the end of the excitement until landing I thought, and between now and then were many hours of level flying. As seat belts clicked off I turned my attention more inwards to the plane. I realised that she had nothing in front of her, nothing on the chair beside, but was watching the window as intently as I had been, had she been trying to look out, or had she been looking at something else, at me? I smiled slightly to her, she still had not spoken as I removed my belt and slipped down in the chair a little. I wanted my bag, but for now would wait until she moved, I did not want another embarrassing display as I had put on trying to get the bag in the overhead in the first place. I continued to watch nothing in particular within the plane, the crew starting to move around the front, the people across flicking on headphones, movies, opening books and as the drinks started to come around I thought it was time to get my bag and I shifted, standing slightly hunched over at my chair. “I’m sorry, excuse me,” I said softly, my voice seemed unusually quiet and timid and I wasn’t totally sure why. The look I received from her, told me I would not be putting the bag up and down during the flight as her eyes seemed to pierce my body, I swallowed hard and instead of getting my bag down straight away I moved swiftly in the direction of the toilets.

To be continued