the tall italian

i realize i have completely dropped the ball thus far on blogging...i rarely ever write anything. and now that i have been to Africa and back, surely a good story is called for, right? there are WAY too many meaningful moments to share...so instead i will share a bit of the absurd.


on my way back to the states, i had a 9.5 hour flight from London to Dallas. for some reason the people in Africa did not check me in for this flight...so by the time i got to the counter in London, all the good seats were gone. i was stuck in the middle seat of 3. luckily, i am 5'2"...this phrase does not often pass my lips. but on airplanes, being short has MAJOR advantages, not least of which is ample leg room. while waiting to board the plane, i noticed an amazingly tall italian man. i would LOVE to be able to adequately describe this man to you, but i know anything i could say would not do him justice. so let me only mention that he was wearing a matching blue wind-suit (jacket and pants), gold jewelry, huge white kicks, and was seriously 6'6", at least. i noticed him only in passing as we were waiting to board. (note: there was an italian man residing in Arkadelphia for a while named Bruno, and this man was a tall version of him. i realize that Bek is probably the only person that will understand what that means...but there it is.)

now, i am not a "push-to-the-front" kind of girl when it comes to boarding planes. i see no reason to get to my seat as quickly as possible, when i will be occupying that space for a very long time anyway. so i am always one of the last people to board. it was not a surprise, then, that both of my neighbors were already seated. and i am SURE you are smart enough to know that one of these neighbors was none other than the tall italian man. as i made eye-contact with him, i could tell i was in for an interesting flight. he had the armrest up, in an effort to spread out as much as possible. and as i sat down, he immediately began to flirt, hoping that i would grant him all of my extra space as well. at one point within the first hour...change that, before we had even leveled off from our ascent...he actually said "can you tell that i am hitting on you?" i replied "yes" and he laughed and put his arm around me. apparently if i had been turned off, i would have hit him. my mistake.

i cannot begin to remember everything that was said...so here is what i learned during that flight: the man in question was named Eddie, and i am NOT lying when i tell you he is usually called "Eddie Spaghetti". he is a chef and he is good at everything, of course. he has a sweetheart in Dallas, but that did not compel him to refrain from petting my arm, laying his head on my shoulder, winking, etc. he feels that because i am 26 and unmarried, i will certainly want to see him again. tattoos of any kind translate as invitations...having 3 is definitely dangerous. the gap between 26 and 42 (Eddie's age) only means that he gets to be "exciting" in my eyes. and the only peace to be had around italian men is when they are asleep.

so...there is the absurd story. if you do not know me very well, this might seem strange to you...how did i manage to sit next to THIS man, you might ask? if you know me well, you are shaking your head, filing this story away as simply one more ridiculous thing that we will laugh about when next we meet.