785. Guess

“You’ll never guess who was on my flight today,” began The Husband provocatively. 

“Uh, I dunno, where’d you go again—Atlanta?” 

“Yeah, my meeting was in Atlanta.” 

I tried to think of famous people from Atlanta, famous people The Husband would know and I would know, but people that weren’t so famous that they would already have their own private jet and not fly commercial anymore. 

“Ted Turner?  Julia Roberts?  Dakota Fanning?” 

“Dakota who?  No.  It is someone you know.  Someone you know personally.  Guess again.” 

Honestly, I was too old for these games. 

“Come on, Sweetie, just tell me.  I give up!”  Had he not married me?  Did he not know about my Instant Gratification Gene, he’d lived with it for over ten years. 

“No.  You hafta guess.”  He grinned, airline pretzel crumbs still stuck in the side of one of his top teeth. 

“My sister?  John from the bus-stop?  My boss from the high-end kitchen store?” 

“Wow, those were really good guesses.  No.  It’s someone you see a lot, but then don’t see for a while.” 

“My dentist?” 

“No.” 

“Really, this is a dumb game.  Just tell me!” 

“All right, but you are gonna be mad you didn’t keep guessing.  Are you suuuuuuure you wanna know?” 

“YES!” 

“Okay, I saw … Muse.” 

“Was she in first class?” 

“No!  She was working the flight!” 

“Wait—what?” 

“You heard me.  She was on the flight crew!” 

“Muse is a flight attendant for Delta?” 

“Flight attendant?  No.  She was the co-pilot.” 

“She was the pilot?  Are you insane?  How could she be the pilot!?  She has a prison recored!"  

“MOV, I’m telling you, she flew the plane.” 

“It was probably someone who looked a lot like her.” 

“No, MOV, it was her.  She came out of the cockpit and chatted with me for a while.  She said to say hello to you, check if you need some writing inspiration, and ask if you want a buddy pass.” 

Does Muse not know me?  Of course I wanted a buddy pass!  I began calculating where I should fly to and who I could get to watch my kids while I was gone for a week or two. 

“I told her you are mad at her and don’t want her buddy passes.” 

“WHAT?  Why would you do that?” 

“MOV, you told me yesterday that you were still mad at her for stealing your car and then going to work for the airlines.  I only told her the truth.”  He shrugged, and then picked at the pretzel remnant in his teeth. 

“That’s not true.  I mean, I was mad, but not mad-mad, you know?  That was ages ago.  We worked all that out.” 

“You just told me that on the phone when I was at my hotel in Atlanta last night.  It was 11 PM.” 

That’s what I get for marrying a cost analyst:  precision. 

“Well, anyway, I don’t really understand how she got to be a pilot?  She’s so flaky, does she even have her flying license?” 

“I guess she must.  She had her special badge and everything.” 

“Do you look closely at the badge?  Was it fake?” 

“MOV, do I have to spell it out for you?  She.  Was.  Flying.  The.  Plane.” 

“And you didn’t fear for your life?” 

“She said to tell you she’d call.” 

“When?  When will she call?” 

(to be continued .............… I promise!)

MOV