God, there was a sea of people lining up at the Delta Airlines counters. To make matters worse, Jo had purchased a ticket in coach, so there was no chance of moving to the front of the line.
All she could hear was irritated passengers making their displeasure known to the staff at the counters.
She heard one man with an obvious southern accent ask one of the attendants the following question:
“Since when have Delta airlines started employing farm girls to do this job?”.
The southern girl behind the counter had probably heard it all before anyway, because she replied “ever since we’ve stared transporting cattle”, not missing a beat, and not looking up once.
Jo giggled a little at the woman’s chutzpah, even if she herself was thinking exactly what that rude man was also thinking.
The crowd gathering around the counters was separated into 3 basic groups.
The first was the mostly Greek and other European passengers who could afford to travel business or first class, and who were ushered to the counters with the warm smiles of the Delta Airlines boys and girls. These people were clearly distinguishable from the general rabble which was pushing its way toward them by their neat and clean luggage, and their crisp clothing. Most of the women wore make up that was subtle and pleasing, and wore clothing that radiated wealth and elegance. Their shoes were made of suede, their skirts linen. Very European. Amongst these women were several Americans also, and these ones were discernible by their clothes which were either Gap or Old Navy.
The men in this group by contrast wore clothing that was expensive but designed to look shabby and unpretentious. Given that most people knew just how expensive Gucci loafers were, it rather defeated its purpose.
This group was a quiet one, and Jo wished that she was one of them. Beyond the check in counters, this group was going to be greeted by the calm and smiling staff of the Crown Room Club, though in all honesty Jo had been a member of these “executive lounges” before, and they were mostly filled with the same sense of entitlement and loud demands as the rest of the airport population, only these people wore linen clothing.
Instead, she was faced with waiting for another forty five minutes at the very least until she could check in and buy herself a tepid coffee from one of the airport cafes. The line-up ahead of her didn’t look appealing, though Jo at least kept herself occupied in observing the behavior of the crowd before her.
The second clearly defined group was mostly Americans on what appeared to be budget tours. There were two or three of these groups, and each group was made up of women and men either in jogging suits or very poor quality jeans. They invariably wore baseball caps with a number of pins stuck to them, and they also wore fluorescent badges on their lapels signifying that they belonged to this or that tour group. A couple of other tour leaders were circling their respective groups, trying to sound enthusiastic about their impending flight and subsequent tour. Jo could see in their faces that they’d done this all before on many occasions, and although it was probably difficult for the group members to detect it, Jo could see that these tour group leaders treated their members as one would a flock of sheep, herding it this way and that, with little regard for the fact that these were individuals in front of them that may have their own wishes and needs. She imagined that these group leaders thought very little of their members, though perhaps she was being unkind by being judgmental about these people herself. She couldn’t be sure who was now observing her, in the same way that she was observing this group. She realized that to an onlooker, that she would now be classed in the “loud American” group, and she didn’t like that thought very much.
The third group appeared to be mostly Greeks who had come to LA to visit relatives. They were accompanied by an entourage of aunts, uncles and cousins, all behaving very loudly and all with very little taste. It seemed that the relatives felt little need to stay behind the check-in barriers, and consequently there appeared to be many more people on the flight at first glance than was actually the case. These Greeks were easy to tell apart from the ones in business class: they spoke loudly (and in Greek) and there was a great deal more animation in their expressions than the others. In that way, Jo thought that they really did resemble the Americans, though of course, an American could never admit to that.
It took Jo forty five minutes to snake along the line until reaching the Delta staff. She was lucky enough to be greeted by a very effeminate man who reminded her of Paul and who wore a number of “service medals” on his lapel. Jo figured that this was as close to active combat as he was going to get, though in looking around her, she realized that the vista before her very closely resembled a battlefield, albeit very much a rag-tag one with no clear winner or loser. In fact, to an onlooker, it would be very difficult to ascertain exactly what was going on within LAX. The place at times seemed to be full of activity but with very little output.
Nonetheless, the time spent in the queue enabled Jo to size up the mostly Greek passengers, imagining what she must be in for when she arrived at her destination some sixteen hours from now.
The man at the counter looked up at her.
“Are you traveling to Athens maam, or are you connecting to a destination beyond that?”
“Athens. Do you have the correct time over there at the moment?” Jo wanted to adjust her watch, thinking that by doing this she would avoid jet lag.
“No I don’t maam. I’m just LAX ground crew. I’ve only ever traveled between LAX and Century City, and although you might think so, you don’t need a time change for that journey”.
Jo giggled. After forty five minutes waiting to check in, Randy at the counter was able to make her laugh, so life couldn’t really be that bad, could it?
“May I have your ticket and passport please, and anything else you care to hand over to me?”
“Well here’s my passport and my ticket; I don’t think I have anything else that you might be interested in”, Jo said with an impish look.
“You never know DOCTOR Sweeney.. well now I am interested, he said with mock awe as he looked at the name on her ticket. Maybe you could give me the all over treatment- God knows I’m in need of it”.
“Randy, I run a women’s clinic, so I’m not sure that you really want to be given doctor’s treatment by me...but then again..”
“No, I think I’ll leave it there Dr Sweeney. I do have several ailments that may need attending to shortly, but I don’t think that your services will do the trick!”
“As you wish Randy”.. Jo said with an grin, knowing exactly the kind of smuttish thought was going on in Randy’s head at that precise moment. She knew the kind of treatment that he was after, and figured it would be very similar to the kind of treatment that Paul would be looking for later that same night.
As Randy handed her the boarding pass and all her documents back, Jo turned to see a throng of people surround a very star-like person wearing very dark sunglasses. She moved her way through the security screening point toward the departure lounge. This was LA after all, so anyone could be walking thorough the gates at that time.
The mob that was stopped at the security check point did seem to be shouting things at her primarily in Greek, so it was possible that the woman was a minor celebrity in Greece and that fellow passengers had recognized her, wanting a little of her fame to rub off on them.
For her part, Jo hoped that the woman wasn’t traveling on her flight, because back in coach, the one thing that Jo did not want to endure was a flight of thirteen hours duration in which people were constantly badgering this woman and talking about their experiences amongst themselves.
As Jo moved past the sour-faced security attendants, she began to get excited at the adventure that she hoped she was about to commence.
Regardless of whether the letter proclaiming her to be heiress to the stone house was genuine or not, the whole idea of looking for the answer was in itself a huge success for her already. She fantasized about what kind of an experience she would find at the other end of this flight, having a hundred images in her mind as she moved into the ladies’ room. She knew she had to hang on until passing through security, because anyone going to the ladies’ room prior to that always aroused suspicion. It always looked as though the person was hiding drugs or doing something else illegal. She learned that from some TV thriller, and never forgot it while traveling. Jo figured that every major airport probably had hidden cameras in the restrooms to find these things out. Alternatively, the cameras may well have been there for the amusement of the security staff, and as she walked in to the restroom of the Crown Club (she was still a member, even if she was traveling coach), she hoped that some balding overweight man in a camera room wasn’t looking at her screen and masturbating at the thought of what was to come.
What a thought.
As she pushed the restroom door open, she realized that the star-like person was at the wash-basin, re-applying some eye make-up.
The two women smiled at each other as Jo pushed open her cubicle door and entered.
A few minutes later, Jo left the stall to find the woman still there, applying lipstick repeatedly. Jo figured she must be passing time in there.
“Hello”, Jo said. “It looks like you have quite a fan club out there”.
The woman looked at her and smiled. She was around thirty, blonde, with brown eyes and wearing jeans, boots and a very fluffy sweater.
“Yes, I do, unfortunately”, she said with an accent. “I’m trying to have a little rest in here”.
Jo thought she had the tiniest glimpse of what it must have been like to be a celebrity- where everyone knew your name, and everyone was watching you, wanting to talk with you and touch you. Jo could tell that this woman was resenting that celebrity, and that tragically, a restroom cubicle was the only way to have a little peace.
The lipstick slipped out of the woman’s hands as she fingered it, and Jo reached down to pick it up.
“Nice color, MAC”, Jo admired.
“Thank you. It’s a very practical color. I wear it everywhere. Not only that, I have a deal with the cosmetic company, so I have to wear their make-up. It’s part of the contract. It’s good quality product though. Have this one”.
The woman reached into her bag to pull out a fresh lipstick. “I have more than I can use”.
“Thank you, that’s very kind. Are you sure?”
“Of course”.
“Please pardon my ignorance”, Jo said apologetically. “I know you’re famous, you must be. I just can’t place your face”.
“Kouklitsa-mou, you wouldn’t know me. I’m a pop singer back in Greece. My name is Liana Kelisi”. She held out her hand.
Jo took it, announcing herself as Jo Sweeney, from Los Angeles.
“Nice to meet you Jo. If you’re not traveling with anyone, maybe we can have a drink while we’re traveling on the plane. I don’t have anyone with me on this flight, so the seat next to me is empty. Are you with your husband or partner?”
Jo looked a little sheepish, more embarrassed about the fact that she was sitting way back in coach. She managed a weak, “No, I’m traveling on my own. That would be nice. Enjoy your flight”.
With that, Jo dried her hands and left the women’s room, making her way through the lounge to claim one of the few remaining empty seats.
She picked up the LA Times, thumbing through it absent-mindedly as she waited for her flight to be called.
As she moved to the Entertainment section, she realized Liana must be a bigger star than simply a pop singer in Greece. There has a half-page feature on Liana Kelisi and her upcoming hosting gig at the Eurovision Song Contest, due to be staged in Athens in 2 days time. The article also talked about the fact that she had a single out at the moment which was Number 1 on the Billboard Dance chart, the first major international hit of Liana Kelisi after having a string of platinum albums and number one dance tracks in her native homeland.
Well, that was Jo’s brush with fame. It had only happened twice before in her own consulting room (and both of those women were ageing and fading stars of day-time television), and Jo, probably because of the fact that it was part of her daily work, didn’t feel at all over-awed by the experience. This was quite different however. Liana was mysterious and unknown to Jo, and her friendly and casual conversation made Jo feel very comfortable.
A crisp loud-speaker overhead announced Jo’s flight:
“Delta Airlines flight 636 to Athens is now boarding through Gate 42. All Crown Club passengers on this flight are kindly requested to make their way toward the Departure Gate”. The message was repeated in Greek.
Ten minutes later, Jo was swiping her documents through the boarding pass reader and entering the plane, moving through the business cabin to get to seat 24C.
She passed Liana as she made her way down the aisle.
“Where are you sitting Jo?”, Liana asked as she passed.
“Oh, I’m in row 24. I couldn’t get a decent ticket at the last minute”, she lied
“Sit here next to me, Jo. I have two seats. Please, put your bags away and sit down”.
“But won’t someone want this seat?”
“No, no. I have two seats. I normally travel with my manager, but he had to go on ahead on another flight. I always book two seats. Please join me.”
Jo was very thankful that she wouldn’t have to join the jostling masses at the back of the plane in cattle class, though she felt somewhat guilty at being the object of this woman’s generosity, given that she hardly knew her. The woman had already given her a lipstick, a brush with stardom, and now a seat in business class. All Jo could offer was advice on incontinence and menopause, which she hoped Liana didn’t need.
The cabin attendant offered Jo and Liana a drink, and sensibly, Jo chose an orange juice to Liana’s wine. She was a California girl, after all, and health was something that she needed to work on, all the time.
After taking a few sips, Jo realized as she looked at Liana that Dr Sweeney was feeling neither healthier nor happier. She gently motioned to the cabin attendant and asked her for a white wine. This trip was about discovering new places, not only geographically, but also emotionally, and Jo realized that she needed to let some of her guard down, if she was going to become the person she wanted to be.
As the final safety checks were being done and the emergency maneuvers were being demonstrated, Jo turned to Liana and said: “Thank you for this; I appreciate it.” Liana smiled.
“I saw an article about you in the LA Times, in the airport lounge. I have a rough idea of who you are now”.
“There, you see, it is quite simple to summarize a person. Tell me about you Jo. Why are you traveling to Athens?”
Jo and Liana spent hours talking about their lives.
Jo talked of the fact that she was a doctor who spent most of her life, both personal and professional, pleasing others and how this had led to her becoming increasingly unhappy with the direction her life was taking. She told Liana of the package that she’d received from the Athens law firm, with its keys and property title apparently proving that she’d been left a house and land on the island of Patmos. Liana was fascinated by this, and how it could happen, and allowed Jo to talk for much of the time. For her part, Liana said that she’d heard of this before, and that it was often the case that confused foreigners had inherited something from a relative they never knew they had.
They exchanged smiles and words that friends who’ve known each other life-times do. Jo felt an instant bond to Liana, a woman who she realized must have been a big star in her native Greece, and who was in LA on a short promotional tour prior to returning to perform for her country at the Eurovision Song Contest. Liana explained that Eurovision was an institution in Europe, a kitsch production that had been entertaining generations of Europeans for at least 50 years. Essentially it was a continent-wide talent quest where singers battled it out to win their prize in the name of their country of origin. Despite the parochialism of the voting, years of criticism from Europeans in general and the media in particular, the viewers of Europe kept turning their televisions on by the millions. Who knows, perhaps this was destined to be a Europe-wide phenomenon that in 1000 years time would be uncovered in a time capsule, only to discover that it hadn’t changed a bit in all that time.
Two glasses of wine later and a herbal sleeping tablet saw Jo awake with a thud just as the plane was touching down at Athens Airport. She’d thankfully missed most of the flight, though by the time she woke from the haze that was the wine of a few hours ago, the aircraft doors were being opened and the first passengers were disembarking.
Jo started shuffling around, looking for her immigration and customs papers, noticing that her dinner partner Liana was way ahead, exiting the plane with her sunglasses on. She turned and waved at Jo, pointing down as she did so. By the time she realized what she meant, Liana was gone, the only thing distinguishing the experience from a dream being an envelope wedged into the seat pocket in front of Jo. The envelope had “Come” written on it. She opened it, and inside was a VIP ticket to Eurovision, all details included.
Jo smiled, thinking about how much she liked the place already.
Copyright (c) Petros Markou 2008
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