South American Chonicles: Being Bold

So here I am at the airport in Santiago, looking grizzly and feeling like death. I had gone way too hard in the proverbial paint over the course of the last few days and my body was hating me for it. I was just glad to have somehow managed to hang on to my passport through the whirlwind of booze and bars that I had saturated myself with over the past 48. I considered hitting the airport bar, and after a moment’s deliberation, I did. Bourbon please & touch of cola, I told him. He delivered. Money spent. Drink imbibed. Moving on. I said Goodbye to Tom Flynn at Gate 17 and made my way to the east wing of the building. And then, slam. There she is. Gearing up to check people in during pre-board. She’s drop dead stunning, perennial mountain stream beautiful, with twilight hair and sandy freckles. Full-bodied voluptuous, sporting the LAN Chile get up like a runway model on stewardess catalogue front cover parade. There was no way I wasn’t going to take some sort of shot at her. No way. I needed a moment to collect myself. I wouldn’t need to board for half an hour. I stumbled back to the bar. I’ll take another, sir. # 2: Imbibed. Feeling good, feeling bold. Was this the same woman whom I’d seen on my flight down? Had to be. She’d been working behind the rent-a-car counter as a liaison for the airport. But hell, that was three months ago. One more, please. I get to thinking, Hell, I could probably stay down here a few more days. It’s not like I have plans for when I get home. I mean there is a someone but she’s probably taken half the town to bed by now. Oh wait, she has. Because she told me she has. On the phone. Yesterday. Fuck. I hate whores. Moving on. I need flowers, a bear, anything. Something to pass off to this beautiful woman before I board that god forsaken plane that is going to drop me back in to a shitstorm I have seemingly transcended over the last couple of months. I find some complimentary candies and wrap them up as nicely as I can, with a note that has my contact information and the following message: “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” I'm such a creep. But who gives. Time to be bold & here goes, Calling Group C now - -Moving forward.  Four away, now three, two away, Balls. I am next. Hi... this is for you I say – smiling genuinely, passing the note and candy off with collected ease. And Holy Mother. Her lips turn up in to a warm and loving smile, whispering how sweet to me. It all happens in the flash of a second. I am going ape shit. I walk down the switchback handicap ramp, turning up to look at her as I board the plane. A wave and a smile are there waiting for me. Victory, Churchill. Victory. When I get home some days later, I've got one of these 21^st century  love letters from her in my inbox. Storal of the mory: Be Bold. 

Bobby Darin - Mack The Knife