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The blogger nodded appreciatively. “Classics, both of them! Were you at the film festival this weekend? You sound like a cinephile.”
“I was indeed!”
“I’m surprised I didn’t see you.”
“With so many faces, it was easy to miss one,” she replied with a chuckle.
“Yet, none as memorable as yours,” he replied with a playful wink. “Mind if I feature you in my blog?”
Her warm laughter filled the air. “My dear, that’s the smoothest line I’ve heard all day. Why not? Let’s see if your questions are as charming.”
With a grin and a nod, she followed him, leaving us behind.
I leaned in towards Daphne, a mischievous glint in my eye. “To think, romance sparked by a mistaken identity and a few movie references.”
Daphne smirked back. “In a world full of scripts, spontaneity reigns supreme.”
Just then, the airport intercom crackled to life, interrupting the murmur of impatient travelers. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. We are now boarding all passengers for flight 527 with nonstop service to Nairobi. Please have your boarding passes and passports ready.”
“Here we go!” I exclaimed, springing to my feet with a mix of excitement and nerves. As I darted towards the gate, it seemed like a marathon had started without me knowing—thirty eager passengers zipped by, securing their places in line ahead of us.
Daphne and I shuffled forward, inching toward the jet bridge in a procession reminiscent of a slow march rather than the glamorous start to our adventure I’d imagined. We were nearly at the gate when the flight attendant, her eyes sharp behind her glasses, halted me with a gesture to my head.
“I’m sorry, but could you please remove your hat and sunglasses for a moment?” she asked. “Just for identification.”
With a reluctant sigh, I lifted my hat just enough to reveal my face and pushed my sunglasses down to the tip of my nose. The attendant’s reaction was immediate; her eyes widened.
She definitely knew who I was.
I attempted a casual smile, which felt more like a grimace, as she scrutinized the photo in my passport, then back to my face, her gaze flickering with recognition. Hastily, I replaced my sunglasses and hat.
Her body tensed, and for a terrifying second, it looked as though she might curtsy right there in the terminal.
“Please don’t,” I whispered urgently, leaning in.
She snapped upright, confusion etched across her features. “Pardon me?”
“It’s crucial—for national security reasons—that you don’t acknowledge who I am,” I implored, the absurdity of my request not lost on me.
“Of course—your privacy is our concern,” she said, then shook her head slightly, as if to clear it. “I mean, your safety is our priority and honor.” Her movements were almost mechanical as she scanned my boarding pass and handed back my passport. “Enjoy your flight.”
“Thank you,” I said, relief washing over me as I stepped onto the ramp, the weight of her gaze still on my mind. Once on the plane, I kept my head down. I navigated the narrow pathway to my seat in the very back.
“Look, Mommy,” a young girl exclaimed, pointing at me. “She has pepperoni pizzas on her hat. Can we have pizza when we get to Kenya?”
“I don’t think that will be possible, but we’ll see,” her mom replied gently.
Ignoring their conversation, I continued down the aisle and finally reached my seat in the back, just one row away from the bathroom. Attempting to sit down proved challenging, as my hat was so large and cumbersome. I couldn’t lean back comfortably.
As I fumbled to find a comfortable way to sit, a tall man with glasses and a baseball cap paused in the row in front of me, helping an older woman stow her luggage.
“I just adore your hat—it’s so quirky and fun,” she said, her eyes lighting up as she glanced down at me. “Don’t you think so, son?”
“Absolutely,” the man chuckled, glancing at me as he secured her bag overhead. “It’s your favorite flower.”
Finally, someone who didn’t think they were pepperonis.
“You see, son?” she nudged him. “That would make a perfect birthday gift, much better than the usual gift card.”
