WestJet 225: Do you want a Starburst?

October 2nd was the first and last time I saw him, on a flight from Ottawa to Edmonton.

My roommate drove me to the airport, I was 3 hours early… Why?… I don’t know. I boarded the plane in my Roots sweats, Lululemon long sleeved shirt, and off-white beanie, and took my seat by the window. No one was in my row yet and the plane looked pretty much full. I was hopeful that no one would sit beside me, and then he sat down.

He was wearing a white t-shit. I tried not to look at him, but I could see the tattoos on his arms, and I could tell he wasn’t a whole lot older than me… Damn those tattoos *swoon*. I hear people talking in the seats behind us about where they are from and why they are traveling. A young child starts whining and crying behind us. Seriously. I chuckled, out of annoyance. A voice came from beside me, “Do you want a Starburst?”

I looked at him. He had those sad, blue, puppy dog eyes (if I’m being honest with myself, they reminded me of those of my father), and some scruff that made him look so handsomely rugged…”Uh… Ya!” I reply as I reach my hand in the bag he was offering me (I picked a red one). I asked him then where he was from a small town outside of Ottawa. Why was he going to Edmonton: He worked in the oil fields in Alberta. He asked me similar questions, and the conversation continued…. and it didn’t stop. A four hour flight, and I talked to this stranger the whole time. It wasn’t even until about two hours in that I found out his name.

He was 26 years old, and had two children, but was not with either one of the mothers. Woah. Two kids. I decided that I was not going to judge, and remain open to chatting with this tattooed man. We talked about a wide range of things, music, upbringing, fears, the future, even the mile high club (what can I say, I’m a very open person). At one point, we were both singing a remix of Sexual Healing that I had on my phone. Safe to say, the flight was entertaining.

As the flight continued, we moved onto showing each other some of the pictures we had on our phones. This was my chance to get closer. I slid over to the middle seat. By the end of the picture showing, I had my back pressed up against him and my feet up. I think this may be the most cuddling people could do on a plane.

The plane landed. He said, “Well, I guess I’ll never see you again.” .. “Well that’s not very nice, this is when you’re supposed to ask me for my number!” “That was when you were supposed say ‘oh no, here is my number’,” he joked. So, we exchanged numbers. As everyone started standing up and gathering their things, I told him that we had to take a picture because what are the chances that you would meet someone on a plane who you got along with so well. He halfheartedly refused, but I took a Snapchat anyway. He was giving the finger.

He had no luggage, but he came with me to get mine. He asked me if I had someone picking me up. My friend was supposed to be coming to pick me up, so I texted him and he said he was on his way. I think that if I hadn’t had a ride, the tattooed man would have offered to drive me to my hotel. Awkwardly I said, “Should we like hug or what… I feel like we should.” He agreed. So, we hugged and I watched him leave the airport.

That was the last time I saw him.

However, it was not the last time we spoke, but that is an entirely different story.

-H

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