Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
The flight was half Coloradoans catching the first leg of a trip to the US, and half Icelanders heading home after a tour in Germany. I had been trying to watch “Gran Torino” over the shoulder of a man three rows ahead when the in-flight shopping began. The aisle wasn’t clear again until the credits. It was a feeding frenzy of tax-free face cream.
The Icelandic ladies on the flight were in the mood to shop. Most looked like retired elementary school teachers, giving me closed-lipped smiles, wearing striped shirts, hip glasses, and a highly accessorized collection of earrings, rings, necklaces, and bracelets. They perused the duty-free sweets over their chins, straining their necks as they paused “The Hunger Games” to peer at the cart. Others stopped the attendants and made them roll back a few rows, squeezing around to get their purses, showing items to their friends seated throughout the cabin. They backed over and around each other, lurching over people resting in aisle seats.
They debated the jewelry, the perfume, a gold-colored Christmas somethingorother. Pulling their jackets around them, drawing together their sketched-in eyebrows, laughing across fifteen rows, they admired all attention to detail. The show-and-tell of swag made the last hour fly by in a hum of happy chatting and new things.
–Flight from Munich to Reykjavik.