Something Tangible

Cabs, Coffees and Inappropriate Suggestions

Seven hours later, along with several vodka cranberries for her and bourbons for him, they had covered the Israeli-Palestinian conflict (yes that could be called a "conflict," she informed him), Ukraine's civil war (a "war") and the Greek financial crisis.

The latter inspired a lengthy lecture. Katarina said there was plenty of blame to go around for the eurozone mess — the Greeks were lousy money managers, the Germans pushed an austerity-centered approach that kept the Greek economy underwater and the bailouts rescued the risky lenders who sunk it in the first place. Steven put the onus solely on "lazy Greek workers," earning a rebuke from Katarina, who told him that as a hedge fund manager, he had "an amazingly shortsighted view of debt crises and should know better."

They'd also touched on how paying for street parking via cell phone was an ingenious idea; how when you catch a dog doing his business in the grass, he shoots you a look that makes you feel as if you violated his privacy; and how it wasn't so much the bumpiness of the flight that bothered Katarina, but the slowing and speeding up, as if the engines had stopped in midair. They both established that they don't like to be called Steve or Kat; that people who drive slowly in the left lane should be tailed; and that kids nowadays have it easy thanks to online dating, whereas their generation had to rely on the slim pickings at old-fashioned bars and nightclubs.

She noticed that his face wore a permanent scowl, except when he was smiling at one of her idiosyncratic theories about life. He noticed her ass when she got up to go to the bathroom.

Besides her behind, Steven found himself drawn to Katarina's unconventional charm as he tried to tease out more details about her personal life, especially her ex-husband. Katarina didn't take the bait and stuck to generic observations about dog poop and fiscal crises. His barrage of questions and oddly comforting presence helped her forget the turbulence that usually paralyzed her during flights. She was grateful for the diversion but saw it as just that — a pleasant diversion. Katarina was smart enough to recognize that a man like Steven would never be interested in a quirky plain Jane like her.

So when the flight landed and it was time to part ways, she didn't pay much attention to the hand that hovered at the small of her back as he guided her down the aisle, or how he'd been carefully watching to make sure she didn't trip as she stepped off the plane, or how he led her through the thicket of passengers to find the baggage claim area.

"They bring out the bags for business-class passengers first? Seriously? Now that's service," she exclaimed, her face a picture of wonder.

"They'd probably wipe your ass too if you asked," he said, causing her to choke on the bottled water she had just taken a swig of. He let out a deep-throated laugh, marveling at her naïveté and his ability to make a joke, something he rarely did.

Steven took Katarina's luggage, even though she insisted she could roll it herself, and escorted her to the exit.

Once outside, though, he wasn't ready to leave, knowing that the only thing waiting for him were hundreds of emails and a stark hotel suite.

"Well, the cabs are right here and I've got the address to the hotel," she began tentatively. "Thank you for everything Steven. It turned out to be an unexpectedly great flight once that divider came down," she joked, a grateful smile on her face as she prepared to bid farewell to their bizarre encounter. But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to say goodbye.

"I have a driver," he sputtered out before slipping his mask of ambivalence back on. "I'd be happy to offer you a lift. The cabs can be quite expensive." Are they? He didn't really know.

"Oh thank you, but I don't want you to go out of your way. I'll be fine," she said, reluctant to take advantage of his generosity.

"It's really no trouble. We're going in the same direction after all," he replied, cordial and cool.