Where: An eatery just outside security at the Portland International Airport (PDX).
Another airport post, really? I know, I know. I just returned from a little trip to the provinces, but I’ll be back to the subway tomorrow, honest!
Who was reading: An off-duty pilot, juggling his book with a carton of Panda Express.
“Can I be the spy on this one?” asked my mother, who had been kind enough to help me kill some time before my flight. "Sure,” I told her, but after 4 or 5 sly laps around his table, she came back—sans results.
“You’re such an amateur, Mom.” I scoffed. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
But much to my chagrin, The pilot’s considerable bulk completely obscured the book from view. No matter how, I craned my neck, all I got was shoulder, shoulder, and more shoulder. I returned to my seat in despair and proceeded to stew while a conversation happened around me. I couldn’t let it go.
So finally, as we were leaving... I threw caution to the wind and sidled right up behind the man. I was sure my proximity would cause him to turn; some minute breeze roused by my movements would stir the hairs on his neck and condemn us both to an exceedingly awkward interaction....
Instead: success! Maybe it was just an after-effect of the radiation from the body-scanner, but I like to think it was exultation that made the stale airplane air taste sweeter than ever.