Got To Be Good-looking ('cause he's so hard to see)

~4~

John

Hallelujah no queue, bar the rude chick in front of me, no immediate please or thank-you.

I scratched my chin I'll have to take the fake beard off for the check-in chicky to compare with the passport, just hope she isn't a screamer...

No this rude girl currently at the counter looks like a screamer; guitar case, maybe a Gibson- stickers all over the back of the case proclaiming the fact, fingers wrapped tight on the handle in her hand. She tossed her head back in clear annoyance--

"Sir. Sir!" Oh, another check-in just for me, how nice.

I lifted the hat slightly and peeled the beard back a bit for the passport, all fine no one saw anything, the girl with the guitar was now wildly waving her hands about as her guitar case is unceremoniously dumped on the belt bound for the hull.

"Carry on, luv?" I held up my guitar and the check-in lady smiled and nodded serenely, gazing down upon her now autographed notepad 'To Lorraine with Love John Lennon xxx' , usually does the trick.

Guitar girl turned toward me and I couldn't not look. The icy stance, the clenched fists from the altercation over the case, all evident. Also evident was a dark pair of sunglasses slid slightly down her nose and those lips, cupid himself must have placed upon her face. Kissable even in the sneer she treated me to as she looked over her sunglasses at the staring fake bearded (can she tell its fake?! -crap, I'll check in the lav in a mo) weirdo with guitar carry on luggage at the next counter.

'Flight FJ109 bound Heathrow departing gate 54 now open for boarding' The announcement floated over the terminal making heads glance up from newspapers, people rush the amenities and of course, if you had any, hugs and kisses goodbye from loved ones.

I, on the other hand, loitered by the back of Gate 54 wanting to be last on, the aircraft stewardesses would have had wind by now that I was going to be on the flight, I asked for anonymity but I can't ever seem to get it.

I don't go out of my way to be a big head, seems to come naturally. I try not to ask for more or better just cause of my name but when it comes to hull or carry on hand luggage, well I'm a musician, it's my livelihood.

Strange guitar girl sat staring out onto the runway rubbing her eye, checking the clock, tapping a foot. I took the time to wash over her fully she intrigued me in a way ... the guitar, the shades, the threads, all hinted at bands and singing but the girl sat like a sack of potatoes not like an owner of the stage.

She spotted me and flounced past  that's all I can call it, with floppy arms fluffing and huffing all about. Now I get the sneer and finally the nose goes in the air. 

Well at least I know the ratty disguise is working.

The passengers assembled bleating about the wait for the boarding then slowly it was down to two, guitar girl and me.

I ambled toward the counter then it felt like it was a mini race.

Her or me.

Win or lose;

She won leaning over, flinging the slip in the stewardesses face like it was a winning lottery ticket. But luck wasn't on her side, her ticket unceramoniously dropped and mine taken. I was then blessed a courteous smile from check in and offered assistance boarding, I walked past guitar girl, without a guitar of course, and tipped my hat.

I swear I heard her growl.