Indecent proposal

Those old acquaintances. Sitting in a café, sipping miniature espresso and cutting through an enormous cake. Haven’t seen her in ages; did not long to, although I don’t mind the company. For the sake of old times.

Trying my best charming me, not to impress her, there’s no need, but perhaps to practice. I am so at ease:

— You know, maybe it’s good to have somebody to hang out with occasionally. To get out of one’s bubble.

— I can look after you if you want, — she quips, completely blowing the innuendo. Somehow I expected that.

I’m laughing it off, clumsily avoiding hurting her, as she means it more seriously than it sounds. I am not interested. Never have been.

Those who were on the radar once are long gone. We crossed paths, going from giggles to awkwardness and back, or vice versa, and then splitting for good. They reside in my address book and in the darkest corners of my head. And I still love sending and getting random Christmas and birthday messages, somehow to demonstrate an imaginary connection never really disappears.

I’m laughing it off.

That went smoothly, me thinks.

A Day in the Life

It’s 4:00 AM. I’ve been sleepless for most of the night, but finally, I made up my mind and set off for a walk through the silent streets of a deserted city.

Play the Beatles, I say, and Siri obliges with A Day in the Life. Beautiful. I like the choice.

The city is fast asleep. I lived here for many years and maybe I will again someday. I still call it home, though only part-time now.

I keep walking until the rush hour hits, then I catch a tram back. Shower, shave, and a drive to the airport.

The lounge — a few calls, emails, and then the first flight. Another airport, and as I approach the gate, they call my name.

— You called my name, I believe?
— You’ve been upgraded to business.

That ticket cost a bloody $3,000, so it’s a bittersweet redemption. Maybe I’ll finally sleep on the plane!

— Thank you, that’s wonderful.

And it truly is. It’s over a ten-hour flight, so lying flat and getting some sleep will help pass the time. Porcelain plates, tablecloths, champagne, and olives don’t thrill me anymore, though.

The steward calls me by name.

We land in Denver, back to reality. Just one more flight to go.

— What are you going to do there?, — a friend asks during a badminton game.
— Not much, really. Meet some people, walk a lot, and take a few photographs.

That about sums it up.

Vegas, baby, Vegas. I haven’t been here in six years. I’ve forgotten how to navigate from Caesar’s to Mandalay Bay through tunnels and corridors alone, and I’m about to find out.

Not just yet. Not yet. Uber, hotel, lights out, aircon off, bed — coma.

I’d love to turn you on.