Park Bench Society

View From A Window

The usual morning ritual properties consisting of a cup of hot black coffee and the day's newspaper were already placed on top of the desk. On the background the voice of a news presenter from the television giving the first breaking news of the day can be heard slightly. The female newscaster's voice which was now turned into Mandarin after delivering the English news version was barely heard as the volume was turned low and just enough to travelled the hearing distance just in case there was some really important news that needed attention.

The scent of the freshly brewed coffee flowed out the open window of this second floor room passing the wet roof garden of an open outdoor space adjacent to the room. The rain that fell at dawn a few hours ago still left its mark on the wet rooftop and on the tropical garden below. Raindrops can still be seen rested on the Hibiscus flowers . This tropical plant was tall enough that some of its dark red flowers could be seen trying to climbed up to the edge of the window. I remembered the day I bought that plant about two years ago was only as tall as my knees.

I shifted my view from the window and looked around my room and can still felt the chill from the air condition until I shut it off moments ago. The left over man - made chill mixed with the natural breeze of an "after the rain" morning from the open window gave me this autumn - like feelings replacing the usual tropical morning weather. Meanwhile, the shinny wet roof and raindrops still clinging on the flowers and the scent of musky wet earth somehow approriately added the overall feeling of a breezy autumn day.

I'm looking at the red Hibiscus flower now. No raindrop rest on it. The sun is shinning brigthly and hot. No time to even turn on the TV and barely finish my instant semi- hot coffee.

It's been a long while and I really miss that view from a window....

Image source: http://www.ikies.com/

Angel

Just a short intermezzo from the Ambassador's Daughter story.
Where do angels come from?

Prolong intermezzo:
From the comments that were posted and all the troubles in the world.....
Heaven must be missing lots of angels, no ?
Let's be thankful that God care, yes ?

Born Crying, Die Smiling

between birth and death - not necessarily in this order.

purity, innocence, curiosity, absorbing, growing, learning, playing, responsibility, vanity, attraction, lust, greed, ambition, sex, confusion, ambiguity, arrogancy, humility, pleasure, insecurity, wealth, poverty, sophistication, happiness, sorrow, cultural, creativity, confidence, shallowness, romance, love, hatred, sickness, family, lies, betrayal, friendship, sensitivity, tolerance, ignorance, repentance, spiritual, faithfullness, peacefullness, death.

Congrats to the new dad, Agus Makkie and his Baby Born Crying Rahzel Zigha Nabiya. Enjoy fatherhood dude. Good luck !

Caffeine & Nicotine

+ So what's new ?
- My crush....on and off, on and off, on and off
+ So is it on or off now?
- It's off right now.....damn that guy
+ Brutal.....
- Apanya ?
+The jungle of the single world
- Hahahahaha
+ Ngga se simple film Tarzan jaman dulu
- Gimana tuh?
+ Me Tarzan, you Jane....let's do bang-bang in my tree house
- Hahahahahahaha......
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+ Liat deh, you'll like it
- Terlalu drama gitu lho
+ Ngga lah, aku kan tau selera kamu
- Ok, I'll take a look at it
+ Meskipun plot nya romantisme biasa tapi setting nya keren abaz
- Like what ?
+ Hong Kong in the 60's and lots of rainy days
- Rain ?.....hmnnnnn. Menarik juga
+ Cerita nya keluar lebih dari setting dan angle-angle shot daripada dari dialog...really cool
- Metaphors ?
+ Ya gitu deh. There's this one scene where the guy is talking to a tree
- As long as there is rain it's ok by me. Wet street too ?
+ Yup. You know I love it too
- What ?
. I love rain
- Rain, where are you?. He loves you.....
+ Biarin aja, ga usah dipanggil. Kalo lagi di kangenin emang suka jaga jarak

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+ Dasar kambing...
- Hehehe kambing....dulu katanya bebek-bebek primadona ?
+ Udah pada ngerasa paling pinter gitu lho...
- "Out of the box thinking", they think.
+ Kampret lah, cuman bisa ngekor doang...apanya yang out of the box?
- Para katak dalam tempurung
+ Hehe...katak tak berotak
- Yoehh jeki, gimana mikir di luar kotak kalo otak aja ngga ada ?
+ Fuck them lah. It's all about "No box" thinking anyway now
- Siap !. Be fearless and just throw the damn fucking box away

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+ Want me to lend it to you or you want to buy it yourself?
- I'll borrow it from you
+ No problem....but when are we going to meet again?
- Anytime. I'm not busy and as long as you don't have to go off to remote places
  again for that damn shooting.
+ It's really good you know
- Yeah I know, I read the review before
+ I mean you can feel the vibes of the city even if you've never been there
- You know why I never really bother to see it before?
+ Why ?
- Too close for comfort. The damn story is too much like my life
- Hahahahaha...
+ But I guess it's time to face reality isn't it?
- What, you're facing your reality by deciding to watch this movie ?
+ Yeah...no that sounds stupid isn't ?
- People usually watch movies to momentarily escape from their dreaded reality
+ Yes, and I watch it to face my reality ? How do you figure that ?
- Well, to quote what the girl say in "Bewitched"... ".....there is no solution, we're  in Coffee Bean" ....hahahaha.
+ That's funny. I haven't seen that one either. By the way, why aren't we in Coffee Bean now?
- You're the one who wanted to meet here
+ That damn place is too mainstream anyway. It's kindda nice here though.......you could watch the rain outside
- Yeah, but the shades in the windows makes me a bit claustrophobic though
+ Just focus on me, gurl....
- Hahahahaha.....

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Inspired from the movie Coffee and Cigarettes. A film by Jim Jarmusch starring Roberto Benigni, Iggy Pop, Tom Waits, Cate Blanchet, Bill Murray, Steve Wright, Steve Coogan and many others.

Similar title post: Looking For Love  Over Nicotine And Caffeine by Silly Sushi on My Mundane Life

Kerja apa Mimpi ?

Bagaimana sebuah mimpi bekerja? berapa banyak macam mimpi dalam kehidupan ini ? apakah kerja mimpi dalam tidur sama dengan mimpi untuk mencapai sesuatu atau mimpi berkhayal bertemu dengan seorang teman atau kekasih?

Seberapa tebal perbedaan mimpi dengan cita-cita? Dapatkah kita hidup tanpa mimpi, cita-cita atau khayalan? seberapa jauh kita dapat membiarkan diri kita terjebak dalam mimpi? Kata mereka mimpi adalah kembang tidur. Apakah itu menandakan khayalan sebagai kembang dari keberadaan kita ataukah sekedar pembelaan dari cita-cita yang tak tersanggupi?. Siapa yang berhak menentukan mimpi kita itu indah atau hanyalah pelarian dari dunia nyata yang kadang tak sesuai dengan apa yang kita harapkan.

Akankah mimpi dapat menjadi sebuah rumah yang nyaman sebagai pelindung dari kegagalan atau rasa kecewa kita? Ataukah rumah itu hanya merupakan tempat singgah sementara sampai kita menemukan jalan yang tepat untuk langkah kita selanjutnya? Berapa lamakah waktu yang tepat untuk menempati rumah tersebut? Kalau suatu pagi kita membuka jendela rumah itu dan melihat rumah-rumah lain disekeliling kita bertambah banyak apakah itu berarti mimpi kita hanya sebuah omong kosong yang dimiliki semua orang ataukah kerja mimpi kita memang sudah berada di jalur yang tepat?.

Sering dan kadang aku berpikir bahwa keberadaan ku hanya terdiri dari sekelompok mimpi-mimpi yang datang dan pergi yang menyebabkan aku sering singgah ditempat yang kadang nyaman untuk ku kadang tidak. Satu hal yang tidak pernah aku sesali adalah mimpi mimpi ku kadang mempertemukan ku dengan mimpi mimpi lain yang bukan milik ku tapi aku menyukainya.

Kembali aku berpikir, mana yang lebih baik? membentuk diri dari sekelompok mimpi mimpi ataukah membentuk diri untuk menjadi sebuah mimpi untuk sekelompok orang?

What's outside?

Genuine Oil U.S.A
That's what I see on the outdoor signage from my window now.

"Nyata Kualitasnya"
That's the tagline. Guess what oil is this ?

Oli Top 1 !
I must be so freaking bored to write something like this. Kebosanan dengan kualitas tingkat tinggi.

Tembok

tembok tipis menerawang
penyekat
tetep aja tembok....

sungai bening menerawang
jembatan
tetep aja terpisah....

Travelling Heart

Funny how it can be
The different beats of the heart formed by rhetorical instants
Out of pieces of lyrics and rhythms
From the Deep South country twang of Sweet Home Alabama
That takes you to Interstate 95 on an open top Mustang
To the All by Myself moments monopolized by Bridget Jones
And the almost empty bottle of the finest Absolut
From the rebellious sound of London Calling by The Clash
Till I Can’t Smile Without You
Of Barry Manilow’s corny but sweet melody

Capturing thought
Dismissing reality
Forming fantasy
Creating delusion
Giving inspiration
Providing persistence
Offering desire
Escaping existence

From the pond of lotus garden
To the crowded Arabic market
The heart travels…

Let It Be

+ Be cool
- I can't
+ You used to be good at it
- I still am pretty good at it
+ Then why don't you ?
- I don't want to
+ Why not ?
- I just want to be me
+ You'll be out of your zone
- I'm always out of my zone
+ You'll need the protection then
- By being cool and cynical ?
+ No, by being you
- That's not completely me
+ So what, why stop now ?
- Comfort
+ You've found your zone?
- And honesty
+ And become expose ?
- Open is a better choice of word
+ Even if that makes you sad ?
- Especially when it makes me sad
+ Why ?
-  To prevent the cool turning into bitter cold
+  So what ? ice help heal wounds
-  I want warmth in my comfort zone, not cold
+ But you'll be wounded
- Perhaps
+ So what's it going to be ?
- I just want to be me
+ You're too hard on yourself
- No, just honest to myself and to you
+ You'll have more scars
- Then let it be, I just want to be me

* This is getting to be a habit. I'm fucking talking to myself again everytime
  there are no more butterflies in my stomach. Instead, coconuts are banging
  inside my head and I'm fucking lost inside it.

Tragedi Cumi Hitam

"Ya yang waras ngalah lah" ucapnya sambil mengaduk - aduk garpunya kedalam sepiring gado-gado. Sementara itu jari tangannya satu lagi menari-nari diatas touch pad di  Power Book Mac G4 nya untuk memamerkan layout print ad yang baru dibuatnya ke teman disebelahnya. "emang dia mau ngalah sama loe, jek?" kata temannya itu dan tertawa keras sekali. Aku dan dua teman lain di meja itu turut tertawa. "hah ?...sialan" katanya sambil meneruskan penjelasannya mengenai arti dari pesan iklan yang akan di muat di sebuah directory periklanan. "Jadi gambar ini kalo diliat dari sudut yang berbeda punya arti dan message yang berlainan. Bisa optimis, realistis, ilusionis ato juga pesimis" demikian dia menutup penjelasannya. Sementara itu dua temanku yang lain sibuk membicarakan jadwal rekaman untuk album terbaru mereka dan membahas studio mana yang akan mereka pakai.

Aku duduk menatap pesananku yang baru datang, cumi hitam dengan cabe hijau. "Looks good" kataku dalam hati. Suara - suara mereka terdengar jauh dan seperti gaung dalam kepala ku yang saat itu terasa seperti ruang hampa. Sesekali aku dengar tawa mereka dan bunyi  sound alert Yahoo Messenger dari Power Book yang tersambung oleh Wi-Fi gratis di restoran dengan makanan khas Jawa yang menawarkan setting dan design interior seperti chilling lounge dan presentasi makanan a la fine dining.

Aku perhatikan tata letak makanan di piringku yang terlihat agak sepi dan kontras sekali dengan dekorasi minimalis antara warna tinta cumi yang hitam pekat, potongan besar cabe paprika dan nasi putih diatas piring lebar berwarna putih. "Looks good" gumamku dalam hati. Sepi tapi kelihatannya enak. Hidangan ku malam ini membuatku kembali teringat akan santapan cumi yang berbeda di sebuah meja makan beberapa bulan yang lalu. Sebuah makan malam yang cozy dan berlanjut dengan obrolan yang kalau mengambil istilah dari seorang teman lain merupakan "mind blowing conversation" di teras rumah dengan banyak tanaman hijau. Aku tersenyum. Senyum pahit. Pahit karena rasa sepi dan getir di hati atau karena lapar yang terasa sejak tadi sore, akupun tidak tahu pasti. Aku ingat pada malam itupun aku sangat lapar tapi suasana hati pada saat itu sangat jauh dari rasa sepi. Aku menggeleng kepalaku seakan mengusir rasa sepi untuk tidak tetap bertengger disitu selama aku menyantap cumi hitam yang ada di depanku ini.

"Slamatzzzzzzzz...." tiba-tiba terdengar seseorang menyapa dari arah ujung meja. Ternyata seorang lagi teman atau dalam istilah bodohku satu lagi agen ganda telah datang untuk bergabung. Agen ganda, sebuah cap yang aku tempel ke segelintir orang yang sering datang ke kantorku yang berada di daerah Gandaria. Dia langsung duduk di kursi sebelah ku dan membongkar tas laptopnya. "Serius amat si loe pak?" dengan mulut setengah penuh aku bertanya ke si agen ganda. "Sedikit cukup serius juga sih kalo diliat situasinya pak, mau email booking konfirmasi about gig nya si Monday Michiru next month.....tapi yang penting suasananya tetep aman kan?" jawabnya sambil menusuk Wi-Fi adapter kedalam tubuh laptop Sony Vaio nya. Yang lain hanya terkekeh mendengar jawabannya, sudah biasa dengan gaya bicaranya yang sering ngga nyambung dan acakadut antara dua bahasa itu. Aku hanya bergumam "ohh....." sambil merenung. Sebutan agen ganda dengan double meaning itu membawaku ke sebuah istilah lain yang mirip, agen beras. Lamunan ku mengenai beras terhenti ketika salah satu dari teman musisi yang ada di meja itu melempar ide untuk tahun baru. "ke Lombok yuk tahun baru" katanya. "Bali bosen, Jakarta mati lah....kita ke Lombok aja rame-rame" lanjutnya. "Setuju, kita di tempat Philipe aja di Gili Meno" kata si agen ganda sambil tetap sibuk mengirim emailnya. "Jadi kita bikin Ibiza nih di Gili ?" kata si pembuat reklame. "Berangkatzzzz pak" kataku sambil menghabiskan sisa nasi di piringku yang sekarang sudah berubah menjadi hitam.

Sementara obrolan tahun baru terus berlanjut dengan rencana membuat Ibiza a la Lombok, aku menatap cheting atau tempat nasi tradisional khas Jawa terlihat sudah setengah kosong di depan ku. Kembali pikiranku melayang dan melamun mengenai beras.  Aku berpikir mengenai impor beras yang sedang ramai dibicarakan. Kalau akan mengambil istilah si pembuat iklan tadi mengenai arti dan pesan dari design yang dia buat maka aku sedikit agak bingung mau memilih yang mana. Negara agraris kok masih harus meng impor beras. Sama tidak masuk akalnya dengan kondisi negara yang memiliki minyak tapi terus menerus menaikan harga BBM . Apakah keputusan untuk mengimpor beras merupakan langkah realistis, ilusionis atau pesimis? Padahal stok beras tidak kurang dan kalaupun akan menurun karena harus memberi makan rakyat miskin kenapa tidak beli saja dari petani lokal sehingga dapat membantu sektor pertanian dimana banyak rakyat miskin yang bekerja di sektor itu. Ini lebih baik daripada buang uang untuk membeli dari luar negeri yang otomatis pasti menggunakan mata uang asing. Makin miskin saja nanti negara kita. Aku membayangkan para petani beras itu pasti sedang merasakan rasa sepi yang jauh lebih dalam dengan adanya distorsi pasar seperti ini. Mungkin juga rasa getir dan pahit atas ketidak adilan yang mereka rasakan dari tidak adanya keberpihakan pemerintah disisi mereka.

Lamunan ku melayang kembali ke teras dengan banyak tanaman hijau itu dan teringat dengan plakat yang di tempel di satu sisi dinding luar dirumah itu. Sebuah penghargaan untuk jasa atas rasa nasionalis yang tinggi dari salah satu pemilik rumah yang telah almarhum. Pasti beliau pun merasakan getir dan pahit yang sama saat ini kalau masih hidup. "Ya yang waras ngalah lah" kembali terngiang di telingaku. Siapa yang waras dan siapa yang harus mengalah dalam situasi dan suasana yang tidak aman ini? Mudah -mudahan tahun baru yang akan datang ini akan membawa rasa optimis yang realistis dan bukan pesimis atau ilusionis dari hal-hal yang tidak masuk akal.

4 Days At Home

Monday everything was perfect.
The beautiful rainy days from the week before filled the house with fresh scent of wet grass. A breeze came through the big open windows bringing with it the cool ocean air flowing to every corners of this house on a cliff. The house felt like a home, from the first ray of light at dawn shinning through the windows on all sides of the house till the bright stars in the sky lighted the back wooden floored terrace built with a sturdy foundation over the edge of the cliff facing the sea.

The days went forward filled with comedy and sweet drama inside this cliff - top home. The casual bickering and laughter were captured by the ears of every interior walls and turning them into a decoration throughout the house. Unwatched to the eyes of others, life was happening again in this house.

Came Friday.
Comedy turned into tragedy. Laughter turned into tears. Casual bickering turned into emotional terrors. There were no more mornings filled with the smelled of fresh brewed coffee and the fresh sweet scent of orange skin marmalade over hot pancakes on the large wooden kitchen table. There were no more sounds of DVD played on the flat screen monitor showing a tearjerker movie on the calm star filled evenings. The grandfather clock in one corner of the house has stopped ticking with its pendulum in a standstill just as if life was no longer happening.

The cliff - top home has turned once again into just a house. The house looked in perfect order as usual. White sheets bed was turned neatly as always. The large black comfortable sofa looked neat and unseated with all the oversize pillows tucked in and a soft light wool blanket sometimes used during the late night movie watching was folded nicely over one of the sofa arm. But the rainy days have stopped and the house felt dry and hollow. Still unwatched by others in the neighborhood, life has left leaving only recent memories cemented into the walls along with other memories of the past.

For a brief moment of four days the house was a home once again. Life went by so fast sometimes leaving no time for understanding or forgiveness except unfulfilled happiness. Four days at home after a years of emptiness and past mistakes. Mistakes that could not be undone and all the while life was happening elsewhere and possibly the discovery of new homes.

Days slipped by until one day the front gate was opened and the sound of a car engine was heard coming into the driveway. The noise of the front door being unlocked and the sound of steps on the parquette floor marked the time to make today count again and not let life slipped by without embracing the important things. Windows were opened again letting in the sea breeze flowing inside the interior. With the sound of a flame in the gas stove being turned on to make a fresh brewed coffee, the house was again trying to feel like home. Alone by itself for now while waiting for the rainy days to come.

(Inspired by Irwin Winkler's movie "Life As A House" starring Kevin Kline and Hayden Christensen and the memories of tons of stupid mistakes)

Elang dan Anjing

Crackkkkkkkkkkkk !!
"Black hawk down"
"We get a black hawk down" ringer telepon seluler ku berteriak meniru salah satu adegan dari filem dengan judul yang sama. Aku lihat sang caller ID, pffff....ga penting. Just let it ring lah. Aku teruskan pekerjaan ku di depan komputer membuat design layout untuk website sebuah event yang akan di selenggarakan beberapa bulan lagi.

Deg deg deg...
Dag dag dag...
Berdebar jantungku begitu melihat ikon kuning muncul di sebelah kanan bawah layar monitor ku untuk kemudian hilang kembali ke balik taskbar. Sebuah ikon kecil yang menandakan kehadiran satu sosok virtual. Gokil, 5 tahun dan setiap kali ikon itu muncul masih berdebar seperti ini. Dahsyat !.

Deg deg deg...
Dag dag dag...
Dog...dog......I'm a dog. Keberadaan ikon kuning di task bar itu akhir - akhir ini telah membuat aku merasa seperti seekor anjing yang sedang berkelana mencari sebuah dog house yang nyaman di pekarangan asri dengan rumput hijau. Sebuah tempat dimana aku dapat merasa 'at home'

Crackkkkkkkkkkkk !!
"Black hawk down"
"We get a black hawk down" ringer telepon seluler ku kembali berteriak. Kulirik dan kali ini ternyata memang penting buat di angkat. "siap, pak" aku berkata kepada lawan bicaraku di seberang sana. "ya bagus dong kalo emang master, publishing dan copy right dia yang pegang. bisa open kemungkinan untuk licensing" kataku lagi. "ok bro...kabar kabari". Aku tutup telepon ku.

Hawk......I used to think I was one aku berpikir dalam hati. Seekor elang terbang tinggi di langit. Terbang bebas menembus awan dan dengan kesendirian ku memiliki sarang di tebing tinggi yang terjal. Kenapa aku tiba-tiba merasa seperti seekor anjing begini sekarang?.

Black hawk down to a dog ? The question buggin' me, dawg is.....apa di dunia virtual itu ada mahluk bernama anjing ? Karena kalau ternyata tidak ada maka tidak akan ada pula yang namanya dog house. Kalau sampai seperti itu maka halusinasi apa yang sedang aku alami saat ini mencari-cari sebuah dog house yang nyaman?

Bagaimana aku bisa berubah sosok dari seekor elang menjadi seekor anjing? Bukan soal martabat mana yang lebih tinggi diantara mereka berdua, tapi apakah aku akan menemukan dog house yang aku cari?

A Love Letter

This is a story with original title Surat Cinta by Diki Satya posted at his blog di pelipir blog and is translated into English from Bahasa Indonesia.

My Darling,
How are you? It has been a month since I last heard from you. Are you eating well? Don't forget to wear your scarf which I have put in your bag. You always forget to wear it. Too dandy !, you always said. Please wear it. Winter is coming. There might be some storms too.

“You will receive the most beautifully written letter that you ever read” That is what you told me when you said good bye. I was not really listening to you. I was too busy kissing you. I kissed you again. I looked at you. The handsome face. I kissed and hug you over again. I know you will be gone for a long time. I was savouring my last moment with you. 

Don't go, I said. I must, you told me with your eyes. Your dreams come above everything else. Even me. I will wait for you. You'll see.....you will understand later.

So who is she?
The one that made you blushed and quiet. Someone that you keep to yourself. You won't share with anyone. Is she taking good care of you ? as well as I ? Do I have to compete with her ?. It's allright. I will still wait for you here. You can even bring her with you.

My Darling,
When are you coming home? The weather has been getting colder. The neighbors are staying indoor already. No one to talk to anymore. The street is empty except for the sound of wind. Not even a whisper heard. The leaves are changing its color. I am getting old.

Please come home, darling…

Mama

(Inspired by the film "The Motorcycle Diaries (Diarios de Motocicleta) directed by Walter Salles and starring Gael Garcia Bernal & Rodrigo de la Serna)" and memories of past love letters)

A Bench and a Three Stripes Shoes

"Hi.."

"Allo" she said, with a French accent.
"Mind if I sit here?"

"No go ahead" she said blowing her smoke.
We were both in a smoking section of an airport waiting for our flights. I noticed her shoes, nice Adidas. A pair of simple black shoes with three white stripes which she worn over ankle socks.

“Where are you flying to?” I tried to make small conversation as I lighted my cigarette.
“Back home to France” she said. “And you?” “Kuala Lumpur” I said. “Ah, we should be on the same flight, my flight stop over in Kuala Lumpur” she continued.
“Nice shoes, where did you get it?”
“In France” she replied shortly.
“Cool shoes, what series is that?” I continued asking her about the shoes.
“I really don’t know” she replied kind of apologetically.
“They look really nice, I like them” I said.
“Merci” she said with a smile.

It’s a simple conversation taken place while sharing a smoke on a bench waiting for a late night international flight. Neither one of us is likely to feel any kind of intimacy from that kind of an experience. It was an exchange between a genuine interest over a pair of sporty Adidas and a return of information which was not really helpful but at least was honest answers.

But what if the swing of event were different? What if faith has it that I was also flying to France instead of just getting off in Kuala Lumpur? The sharing of a bench could extend into a sharing of a long flight.

“So, what will you be doing in France?” she asked.
“Working, I come to see some shots of food ingredients for a TV commercial” said I.
“Hmm, that sounds like an interesting commercial. You work in advertising? She asked again.
“You look good in those shoes” I complemented her as I nodded my head to answer her last question. “Me too, I work in a marketing field also, but mostly digital. I design web….. you really like these shoes?” she said as she lifted both her legs a little. I nodded my head again. She smiled and said "yes, they are actually my fave shoes too"
“Yes, its so you. So? I mean you work in digital marketing? I used to be involved in that too” I told her. “What’s so me… my work?” she asked. “No, the shoes” I said. She laughed and said ”and just how would you know that, Mr. Ad Man?”.
I laughed too and shrugged my shoulders. “I have no idea why I said that. Just a silly hunch, I get them sometimes”. I said as I rose from the bench. “We still have a long wait for our flight” I looked at my watch. “Yes, it will still be for awhile, are you going in?” she asked me. “No, I want to get some coffee, you want one?” I said.
“I would love some” she said.
“Black?” I asked again. “That’s another good hunch, yes. Thank you” she said.
“Be right back, then”. I walked towards a standing bar that still open along side a row of closed Duty Free Shops.

The cigarette has long gone but the conversation lingers on. This could be just another simple conversation over a mutual admiration over a pair of shoes between two people who happens to be involved in similar works. That and the coffee that would follow could create an innocent intimacy or at least comfort over the dreading wait for the two late night travelers.

“Here’s your coffee” I handed her a closely lid cup of coffee.
“and by the way, I’m Shai…Shai Bastara” I introduce myself.
“Merci, I’m Patna Jane” she said as she took the coffee and shakes my hand.
“Cool initial…PJ. Can I call you PJ?” I said grinning.
“PJ it is…and you’re Shai, right?” she grins back at me.
“Sometimes in some situation but right now I’m not shy with you” I winked as I sip my coffee. She laughed at the slipped of the tongue to my name.
“your coffee okay PJ?”
“you know what Shai, these shoes would look nice on you too….yes the coffee is fine. But I am thinking a cold beer would be nice now”
“I think they come in men’s sizes too, don’t they? cold beer definitely is another good idea”
“maybe we’ll have one on board later?” she said.
“where are you sitting PJ?”
“should be around the second or third row…..I always like to seat as close to the front as I can” she explained.
“I’m around there too I think”. I remembered I asked for a front seat too when checking in tonight. I started to look at my boarding pass and the little sticker that says 7 C. An aisle seat.
“I think I’m going to get one too” I said as I showed her my boarding pass.
“what Shai? the beer?” she looks at my boarding pass and waves hers that has 6 D on it.
“ no PJ, the shoes…I have this funny feeling that I’m going to get one too”.
“yes get one, that way we’ll then have something in common” she said.
“that would be nice, wouldn’t it? I mumbled to myself not really knowing what I’m saying.

The boarding announcement came over the speakers. “That’s us Shai…let’s go”. We walked towards the gate with me helping her carry one of her bags. We stand on line with the other passengers entering the cabin. Our seat turns out to be one row apart on opposite side of the plane. It wasn’t a very full plane as we both have no one sitting next to us.

“hey you ” I came over to her seat after the seatbelt sign is off.
“hey you too” she look up from her seat.
“can I sit here with you?”
“yes I would love the company” she said.” it’s going to be a long journey, isn’t it?” she said again as I sit next to her.
“Pfffff, very long PJ….maybe it would feel shorter if we both share some cold beers”
“yes let’s ask for some, Shai”

The pretty dyed blonde stewardess with dark sharp eyes typical of women from the Arabic Peninsula brought us two cold Heinekens.

“here’s to PJ and her nice Adidas” I toast to her.
“here’s to sharing our long journey together, Shai. And a safe flight”
”yes a safe flight PJ”
“nothing can be predictable but yes Shai, a safe flight where everyone including you will arrive safely at your destination “
“you have a good heart PJ”

"Cheers" We both said it at the same time.

We talked about work and discussed some of the movies featured during the flight. Dinner was served and we had some more Heinekens afterwards. The cabin light is turned low and most of the passengers are asleep. I am reading my book while PJ is busy doing some sketches for a web layout.

“you want a blanket PJ?”
“yes, it’s getting a bit chilly”
“Yes I know. Here’s your blanket”
“I’m going to get some sleep Shai. You?”
“Maybe read a few more pages. Go ahead, I catch up later”
“Okay, be here when I wake up?” she grinned at me
“Yup, with another cold beer for you” I grinned back at her.
“ mmm….you have a good heart, Shai. See you later”

The plane is high above the Atlantic flying through dark night. It is a long journey to Paris with a stop over in Kuala Lumpur and Dubai. Sharing a journey could add more burdens with the excess luggage of your companion or for having to attend some silly needs for blanket or additional cold beers. Probably even an unintentionally slip of tongue on some wrong hunches which might cause minor irritation.

But the comfort of it all and the sharing of common interest between traveling partner beat the hell out of all that burdens. Especially if we are taking a long journey of life with its unknown destination. All we have is the sharing of something in common and faith in our traveling partner. An open heart is a good heart…….it dances and travels