Part 1.

I had always noticed you. after little planning and even less thinking. Bright sun hit my face as I dialed your number. Backpack packed, ticket in hand. I had not slept the night before thus instant sleep to the droning whirr of the jet engine. Mountain time. I land in the circus tent, take the train across to concourse A in the main terminal. Walking through an airport with head phones on yields interesting judgements and people watching. Wondering what moved them enough to physically move themselves. It hit me. Why had I moved my self and what the hell had I gotten into. I barley knew you. Making my way though throngs to the smoking bar. Looked at like a bleeding wound, my cigarette dangled from my lips as I wondered where you were at that second. The perspiration on a cold brown beer bottle as an old man pulls up a chair. Asks the typical air-port bar questions, where was I going, what did I do, I simply replied and Don the lift truck operator proceeded to buy Jameson. Don told me all about spousal abuse with his ex wife and the like in rural South Dakota being a drunk hick. The hands had moved and time sped up with whiskey as the catalystic fuel. Yet you were no where to be found. Now I am nervous. Time is slipping as I stumble from the comfortable place into the loud dry place, looking. I have no method of contact and am realizing this could be a terrible joke and actually start sweating. As the nausea was setting in after I had realized on the blue flickering monitors it had change from you not showing up to a flight being late. 6 hours of thinking alone about what on earth we could have been kidding ourselves into. The same bartender from life past was starting to worry for me judging by the look on his face. I decent the useless metal moving stairs on to the fat lady conveyor. Then I saw a small hard frame moving through people all too aerodynamically. I knew it was you. In an instant this was really happening. Your smile plays tricks on my fluorescent flooded baby blues and makes me think that this has to be more. Got to be. Your breath was much sweeter than Dons, your eyes much softer and your skin felt nothing like the carpet I had been forced into early hangover on. We held our hand and our breath. Sooner than later we were crossing the tropic of cancer and the equator to an equation not calculated yet. You+me+*adventure-money/not knowing x lust=*unknown variable at this conjuncture.