I'd Like That

Flight

It was a long plane ride to Bozeman, Montana. Though it was first class, Pamela sat beside a fat guy with Cheeto stains around his mouth with dog breath to par, a crying baby, and an old straggler who kept "accidentally" kicking the back of her seat. Consequentally, Pamela was relieved when her plane had finally landed in Bozeman, Montana.

After checking out of baggage claim, she looked around for a chauffeur and was met with the sight of a humble looking old man holding a card with her name on it. It was a nice car ride with the old man known as Herbert. They exchanged small talk until they finally arrived at the hotel Pam would be staying at in the afternoon.

From her travels, she was exhausted and couldn't wait to go right to sleep. She peeled back the bed sheets and sleep she did. She fell asleep the moment she closed her eyes.

Open, close, open, close, fluttered her eyes as she began to awake. When Pam finally woke up, her eyes were diverted to the clock. 7:38 a.m. Have I really slept that long? She asked to no one but herself. Of course she did. She was right exhausted. She needed the extra snooze.

She looked around. This would be her first real look at the hotel room. The room was pretty lonely. There was no one but her in it. It was just a room with four bare walls, a television, and two beds. She only needed one bed and the other one added to her feeling of loneliness.

Because of the solemn feeling, Pam decided to go out and adventure in her home away from home. She laced up her tennis shoes and got her car keys and went out the door. She was going to go on a hike in the lovely Montana mountains. On the way there, her stomach grumbled and she realized she hadn't eaten since she landed. It was a long time to go without eating so she pulled over to grab some grub from Taco Bell, and then continued her journey.

Once she was past all the ranches and out of city limits, she was met by the unexpected beauty found in Montana. She had to admit, the place was gorgeous. I mean, she's seen pictures from some of the brochures, but she didn't imagine it to be this picturesque. I guess things are different in person.

Of course this was a drastic change from upscale New York City, where Pam lived in her luxurious studio apartment. I mean, New York City was restless. Swarms of people wove in and out of the streets and taxis were always honking their horns and my, so much traffic... but Montana? Montana was as still as a silent night. It was a beautiful kind of still, one that left you clinging on to the peace and quiet nature that was Montana.

It was so beautiful that I stayed much longer than I said I would, but who could blame me? Although, once I finally got back into town, I just decided to park my car and take a stroll through downtown. After all, it was a nice day and I didn't want to return to the hotel yet. It beat the feeling of being alone, so I just assumed I would take a walk.

And here I was, walking through downtown Bozeman, Montana and do you know who I run into? On the streets, I collide with the one and only John Mayer.

There he was, in the flesh. I knew I was going to meet him, heck I was there to meet him, but I didn't know I was going to run into him soooo fast and within the first twenty-four hours of my arrival.

Like the view from outside city walls, John was even prettier in person. I don't mean that in a feminine way, or even a 'love at first sight" way, but y'know, some people are just beautiful.

I was awe-struck but he just kept walking. Then it became evidently clear to me. He didn't know who I was.

"Hey John." I say, running up to walk with him. Be cool, I mentally tell myself over and over again in my head.

"Oh hello," he said. As he kept walking, I followed. He pulled his hoodie up a little bit higher. He was incognito and didn't want to be seen.

"Uh, I'm Pam..."
"Oh, okay. I'm John."

He kept walking, me following. It went on like this for a moment's time. I didn't know what to say. I didn't expect to be meeting him so soon. I froze and looked down at my feet.

As a reporter, I should've felt more comfortable, more relaxed. I should've acted more like a professional. But did I mention that this was John Mayer? Though he was just an ordinary guy, one can't help but melt under pressure whenever they were in his presence, I.e. stumbling over your words, excessively playing with your hair... I bet there's even people who pass out when they meet him.

John stopped walking and turned towards me. "Look, do you want an autograph or something?" He chuckled nervously.

"Uh, that would be nice... however, I'm actually the reporter of Rolling Stone magazine."

He stopped walking. Suddenly he turned and looked me up and down, from head to toe as if trying to assess something.

"You?" he smirked.
"Yep."
"Oh! then why didn't you say something? Y'know, I wasn't expecting to run into you so quickly."
"Yeah, ditto."
"Uh, do you want to come with me? I was just headed to get a bite of food. You might as well since we're already three quarters of the way there."

Why not? I didn't want to be alone and I figured John would make good company so I just said yes.