u/ChameleonLeader

As a frequent flyer for business, I once again joined the boarding line today and began the slow shuffle down the jet bridge into our aluminum carriage. This monotonous meander has become so routine for me I typically walk on with my nose still in my book, trusting my feet to carry me forward without fault. I look up only once I’ve been deposited at the plane door by my faithful appendages and use my free hand to subtly reach out to graze the plane’s exterior. A part of my travel ritual for as long as I can remember, superstition requires I touch the outside of the plane before boarding, but social anxiety insists I play off the action like I am simply stabilizing myself. I board the plane like a Victorian woman climbing aboard a rocking sea vessel, one foot on the gangplank, one hand grasping the gunwale. Having satisfied both my impractical inner compulsions, I continued forward and all of the sudden found my typical routine boarding process to have been transformed! Before I get ahead of myself, here is some necessary context.

A few days ago, my lovely boyfriend participated in a timeless romantic tradition and presented me with a beautiful purple bouquet. I refused to allow the nature of my career to refrain me from enjoying the bounty of my lovers affection, so I elected to bring the flowers with me, lest they wither alone in my bedroom in my absence.

So now, here I was, bouquet in hand, slowly shuffling down an aisle of people all turned to look at me, an instrumental cover of a 2010s pop song playing sweetly though the Airbus A320 speakers. With every step I could feel my inner bride rising to the surface, longing to take sweeping strides and give smiling nods to my distant relatives. I could feel my sweatpants melting into satin, floating off my body into a white cloud around my waist, filling the aisle behind me with a train worthy of royalty. Where my glasses normally sat on my head a tiara now nestled itself into my messy travel day bun. My bridesmaids had clearly played their part as my purple flowers perfectly matched the Delta uniform.

And then I arrived at my seat and by the time I had squashed myself, my bag and my bouquet into the child’s booster seat where I was to spend the next three hours, all my delusions quickly dissipated and I was pulled back down into reality as an unmarried, sweatpants- wearing weary traveler, carrying a rather inspiring bundle of purple dahlias.