Getting Picked Up on the Flight to Beijing

I get to the Shanghai airport early, and spend a lot of time sitting around eating chocolate and flipping through Vogue. So I am bored and restless by the time they call my China Air flight to Beijing.

The shuttle bus is already crowded when I get on so I have to stand near the door. Passengers continue to arrive and squeeze in behind me. I put my backpack on the floor between my legs and I try to mask my annoyance, mustering pleasant thoughts to pass the time. I look across the bus and see a man smiling at me. Hmmm, I think. How nice. For a split second I half smile back and then I look away.

I look over again and the same guy catches my eye. “Where are you sitting,” he calls over, pointing to his boarding pass. I detect a foreign accent.

“6A,” I say.

“I’m in 16 B,” he says and I shrug and look away. While I am impressed that he is making the effort to communicate across the bus (to the bemusement I’m sure of any English speaking passenger within earshot) I can’t help wondering, where is he going with this?

I look over again.

“Maybe you and my friend can switch seats so that you can sit with me. You can sit by the window and I will show you the landscape.”

It has not escaped my notice that this guy is extremely handsome. In fact he looks exactly like Tom Cruise. “Why not?” I say.

We get off the bus and join each other on the staircase to the plane. Immediately, I find out he’s French. But of course! In my ear, I hear a chorus of Bali girlfriends sighing with sympathetic pleasure. Almost all have had French lovers and routinely praise their unparalleled and unabashedly open adoration of women. As he repeatedly strains across me to see the unseeable landscape out the window (our seats are squarely over the wing), he presses his body against mine. I can smell the faint aroma of cigarette smoke mixed with cologne. (Am I headed into Harlequinn territory here? If so, I apologize!)

I learn that he is in the store outfitting business. He lives in Barcelona but he may move to Shanghai this year. He is smart, funny, multi-lingual. On the bumpy descent into Beijing I get scared and he holds my hand, attempting to distract me with a charming anecdote. For one moment he puts his arm around me, then withdraws in embarrassment when he sees that I’m not comfortable.

After we get to baggage claim he goes to great pains to insure that my driver writes out my hotel name and address in Chinese characters so that he can find me later. And he does.