Volare

There was a lot of laughter.

Puck drove us to the airport for our 10PM business class flight on Air France.

We'd had drinks in the business class lounge.

Then I tried to bribe a bookseller to sell me The End: Book the Thirteenth, the last of the Unfortunate Series of Events by “Lemony Snicket.” I'd been trying for two days to get a copy to take with me, but that didn't work either, because it wasn't supposed to be released until Friday the 13th, and this was Thursday the 12th, and those booksellers are just mean.

"On Friday the 13^th, I’ll be in Italy!”, I told them all.

Funny: how unsympathatic they were . . . "Aw how terrible, in Italy without Lemony Snicket. . . how ever will he survive."

Now, I just knew they were in a box in the storage room of the airport bookstore. But she wouldn't go for it. Rolf was laughing, while hiding behind a rack of books, pretending that he didn't know me, while I pleaded with her, offered her cash, under the table. I suggested she just ring it up in the morning. Rolf was dying of embarrassment.

At Dulles Airport, business class ticket holders get to board the plane first, and from the lounge besides. Once we were on the plane and settled into our Barcaloungers, the flight attendants brought us champagne!

Flying off to Italy on a trip we'd dreamed of for seven years (which had been long planned then abruptly canceled just a week before,) holding hands and toasting our 25 years together as the plane was actually preparing to take off; we were the happiest people aboard.

I laughed, cried, or smiled at everything; it was all wonderful. When I realized that the flight attendant was snapping open a white linen table cloth in order to dress my tray table, my guffaw made him jump in alarm. I had to motion an apology (because I just can't speak when I get overwhelmed lie that,) besides, I can hardly speak Italian, much less his native French. I motioned to the table cloth he was still holding, shrugged my shoulders, and made an "oops" face. And I laughed.

I don't know what he was thinking when he smiled at me and laid the cloth out. Maybe he saw us holding hands. Maybe he could tell that this trip meant the world to us.