Airport soulmate

So, here's a bit of a story for you all.

I thought I should record it down before I begin to truly believe it never actually happened. I'd already be dubious, except for the fact that I've saved my plane ticket from the day along with a name and date so I know that there was a day. There was me. There was him. We did meet.

Now, this happens quite a lot to me that I only seem to meet really quality men when I'm travelling somewhere, never when I'm in one place. Only the poorer selections in my life seem to occur on dry land. Anyway, this occasion was different than all of the others! I truly believe that this was meant to be.

So here it goes, I'm going to chronicle the event, so I never forget.

The date was Saturday 24th March. I was travelling home to Ireland for my easter holidays. I got the train from Lancaster, where it was Saturday crazy and everybody was standing like sardines. Except for me. I found a little nook on the edge of first class where I propped up my suitcase and perched atop it. (That's right, atop!) The journey flew by, I had just had another job rejection letter and given up all hope, so I was reading some Jack London and inwardly growling. The lists of ways that civilisation had killed and been extinct were very soothing to my soul. I was just about to get off the train, upon arrival at the airport, and we were all assembling with our suitcases waiting for the doors to open. A young man, of about my age, stood next to me with his suitcase. He glanced at me and then said, in a delectable French accent, "Are you German?" The attention of the carriage all snapped towards me as I replied "No, I'm Irish" but I was flattered, and took it as a compliment about my long blonde hair.

As we got off the train, it seemed natural that we fell into easy conversation and walked together from the train station, getting an elevator up towards the terminals. I asked which Terminal he was flying from and he answered 3, much to my delight, as he was flying to Paris and therefore I assumed he'd be going from 1 or 2 as 3 is domestic flights. So, we progressed together towards check in, learning along the way that we both loved rugby, skiing, travelling, learning languages, that he was well travelled which I was envious of and that he desired to learn poetry and history and literature and was therefore envious of my degree.

I had never met someone who I was so in sync with. Everything one of us said, the other would reply "Me too!" It was like we were the same person. We were both scared of security. Neither of us could eat spaghetti. We were awkward jokers, misunderstood by our friends. I couldn't help but be delighted.

Of course, time was racing, when it usually dragged when I was alone in the airport. I felt a little thrill when I was waiting for him to check in, and seen him smile and thank me for waiting. We went through security and the security man knew we were together. I loved seeing his brown eyes beautifully crease while we talked. He talked about how he got bullied in school for being half-French, half Brazilian, I was quick to say I couldn't think of many things better. He talked about the unromantic side of Paris. I watched him talk. I'd never met a man with so much to say. It was dazzlingly refreshing!

Eventually, after having our lunch together, I had to go board my plane. Not wanting to stop talking, he walked me to my gate. It felt like a rom-com. But, ALAS!

He would happen to know another boy getting my plane. This boy would meander over and monopolise my dear boy's conversation. The crowd was hearding us home, home, home, away! I couldn't get in a word and they were talking of finances and markets and business and I wanted to make him smile one more time or make him declare "Me too!" with an amazed smile. I couldn't just let him slip away, when I only knew his first name, his degree, and that he went to my university (which is HUGE). I quickly scrolled my number on a piece of paper, along with my full name, and handed it to him, while the other boy continued talking on and on and on. I exchanged a brief longing look with the dear dear boy and then I had to board. His parting words were "Have a nice Easter!" I didn't even get a chance to say "Call me!" as so many girls have done before. I had to convey the sentiment with just one last glance and a smile. Will I ever hear from him? Probably not! There's nothing I can do about it, I cannot contact him. I can only hope he still remembers me after these few weeks of holidays.

One thing is for certain: with regards to the existence of soulmates, I've never been more convinced that they exist. And doubt I will be so beautifully convinced again.

QOTR