Where You Are

Toronto

Birgitta

Why did everyone feel the need to stand as soon as the plane stopped moving?

Seriously, we'd already been on this thing for almost eight hours, what was an extra few minutes? We were all going to be waiting at the same time for our luggage anyway. Who cared who got off first?

Still, people grumbled when the door remained firmly shut. I could see from the tiny window that the bridge wasn't even connected to the plane yet. It was going to be a while for me anyway before I got off of this Boeing 787.

I slumped back in my seat and shoved my AirPods back in my ears while the moony-eyed couple beside me fussed over who was going to carry their carryon luggage in the overhead bin.

Coming home was always a bit bittersweet. I suppose I technically wasn't home yet, but I was back in my own country after being away for ten days. Just a quick, two hour flight to go and I'd be back in my own province.

I was tired. I always had a hard time sleeping on airplanes, even if I was already exhausted. And if I did, it was a very restless sleep. Too much beeping and background noise to make for a peaceful rest, the pilots had made more stupid announcements than usual, which make sleeping impossible. If I took something to help me sleep, it worked too well and I felt like a zombie after the flight. Plus, I was terrified of drooling on a stranger or not waking up when we'd landed. I would sleep when I got home. I wasn't due back at work for another day anyway.

At last there was movement near the front of the airplane. People were getting off. It was still going to be a while before it was my turn. I opened my phone again and tapped on my scheduling app, checking to see when my next stretch of days off would be. That only made me feel sad, so I opened my photos and looked through the most recent ones. Pictures of the stone cottage with he thatched roof, the foggy forest and rolling hills of the Scottish countryside from the top of Ben Nevis. Edinburgh castle and Arthur's Seat, hard to get a good picture that wasn't crawling with tourists in a place like that, but it was beautiful and I understood why people flocked to it.

Finally, after fifteen minutes or so, the aisle had cleared. There were only a few people left on the airplane now. Some looked to be older and waiting for everyone else to get off so they could get help getting off themselves. I took out my AirPods and put them away. Then I stood and folded my blanket, tucked it under my arm and swung my backpack over my shoulder. I made a mental note to attach straps to the bottom of my backpack for my next trip to make carrying the blanket easier. I did a quick check of my area to make sure I hadn't left anything behind before I started to walk up the aisle towards the door.

The flight attendants were standing near the front, talking and laughing while they waited for people to leave. I averted my gaze, anxious and feeling like I was in the way of them carrying on with their jobs.

While my eyes were on their way to the ground, movement caught my eye and I looked back up instinctively.

One of the pilots had emerged from the cockpit and I felt my heart involuntarily skip a beat. Damn, he was nice to look at. Dark blonde hair in a side swept fringe that was perfectly messy, chiseled features and piercing blue eyes that his starchy, white uniform top only seemed to enhance. He was tall, the top of his head nearly reaching the roof of the cabin and had a goofy smile on his lips as he stretched and chatted with the rest of the crew. He was young, possibly only a couple of years older than myself. Though, maybe that meant he was old. I wasn't exactly young myself anymore, I was starting to realize.

Hell, I must look like a mess compared to him. I'd been travelling all night, wearing my most comfortable clothes, muddy hiking boots and my messy hair pulled into an even messier ponytail.