Our Love Story After 50

Our Love Story After 50

On December 17th, 2020, my life changed on a flight from Nashville to Denver. There were no mid-air acrobatics or wings falling off, no mile-high adventure gone awry, or snakes on a plane, but it changed. I was over 50, and I fell in ‘love at first sight’—an idea that teenage girls wholly believe. I did not.

It began when I boarded the plane late. As a Virgo, being late is akin to fingernails on a chalkboard.

My tardiness began at the TSA checkpoint when I discovered my carry-on was ‘too heavy’ —$83.00 worth of ‘too heavy.’ So, I did what anyone would: I unpacked my bag and put all the $83.00 worth of ‘too heavy’ on.

I was going to Denver for a modeling gig, and three weeks before this flight, my agent texted me: “Grab a COVID test if you get a chance.”

The request didn’t seem urgent, but I happened to be in line at a drug store that happened to be giving COVID tests, so I decided ‘why not’ and allowed the pimple-faced boy with the white overcoat to insert a popsicle stick up my nose and tickle my brain. Then, I forgot about it.

Until now, I had entered the gates, grabbed a seat at Tootsies, and ordered a Bloody Mary. Listening to country cover tunes, my phone vibrated: “Remember to bring your COVID test results so you can work.” 

Not words I wanted to see or hear.

Frontier Flight 391 boarded in 20 minutes. I relayed the crisis to my bartenders, who had the solution. (Good drink slingers always have the pulse of their city on speed dial.)

She gave me a number, I called and my test results arrived moments later.

I paid my tab- (tipping well) and dashed to the gate, where TSA rearranged my wardrobe.  Wearing all my clothes, hats, gloves, and coats and looking like the Abominable Snowman, I was on the AirBus, facing a cabin full of irritated people.  I knew they had been sitting in their seats while I was being paged, and the flight attendant explained that ‘we are waiting a few more moments for the last passengers’, trying to suggest that ‘waiting’ was natural, which it is not.

When you are the last person on a plane, you will have a choice of one seat and one seat only.

I took the plane walk of shame to a middle seat in the back, where a masked man sat on the aisle.

Our Love Story After 50: Meeting My Partner on an Airplane

Piercing blue eyes looked at me over a red scarf. He reminded me of a cowboy from the Old West, the ones who ride stallions, waiting for the precise moment to gallop down the hills and rob trains.

On those trains, there are always women, most of them shrieking. There will be one, however, who will remain cool and calm amid the chaos. She will hold the robber’s gaze, appearing indignant at the intrusion. Their eyes will meet, lust bubbling. Love at first sight? Perhaps. Lust at first sight.

He will call her ma’am  and might even tip his hat.  At some point, their paths cross again; at this time, they will rush into each other’s embrace, lips hungrily finding one another. They ride off into the sunset to live happily ever after. Or, so I assume.

I spoke my first words to this ‘cowboy-esque’ stranger; “Can you help me get my bag in the overhead?”

Nodding, he stood up, unraveling all 6’2” of his masculine form, and hoisted my bag overhead. He then stepped aside so that I could sit.

“And I pee a lot,” I continued. “You must get up so I can pee…..a lot.”

“No worries,” his deep voice quivered down my spine, cowboy fantasy firmly intact.

“Where are you from,” I asked.

“Wyoming.”

“Really? That’s what they sound like in Wyoming?”

“Originally from New Zealand….but I’ve lived in Wyoming for the past twenty years.”

Our conversation was nonstop. He commented about a little hippie bus parked in the lot of the hotel he had stayed at. He assumed the bus must be broken down for the owner to stay in the hotel instead of the ‘kinda cool little bus.’

“Was it primer green,” I asked.  “At The Hampton Inn?”

“Yes.”

“That’s my bus,” I exclaimed, and we marveled at the odds. There were 357 hotels in Nashville, and I would park at the one he had stayed in, and we would find ourselves next to each other on this flight.

“It’s not broken down,” I explained. “The General Manager told me I could park there if needed. Also, it’s called a Skoolie.”

This led me to explain how I had purchased the little bus in Nashville, named it Bubba, converted it into a tiny space, and started traveling the country two years ago.

He explained how he was supposed to purchase a semi-truck–(to travel the country), but the deal had fallen through, and how he found himself unexpectedly in Nashville. He had tried to book a flight the day before, but that had also fallen through…and now here he was.

Three hours later, the plane landed in snow-covered Denver, Colorado, and we were smitten.

Our Love Story Continues 0n a Sailboat

Two months later, the woman who owned the ‘kinda cool little hippie bus’ would again board a plane with a ‘too heavy’ suitcase to join the New Zealand Cowboy and start a future together.

We are very different people, but I have learned that in order for two people to be in love, they don’t have to see things the same way; they just have to be looking in the same direction.

Thank you for reading.

If you liked this, check out our sailboat journey.

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5 of Oue Favorite Love Songs…

“Dr. Hook”  Sharing the Night Together

 “I Cross My Heart”  George Strait

“I Woke Up In Love This Morning” The Partridge Family

“Forever and Ever Amen” Randy Travis

“I Just Want to Be Your Everything” Andy Gibb

And, if this kickstarts your heart, grab Amazon Prime Music Here–FREE!

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