Guess Who I Met at the Airport Today

I saw her passing through passport control ahead of me in the queue. I recognized her immediately: a short brunette with a snub nose and a kind of arrogance, a know-it-all attitude in the way she talks to the people around her. She was accompanied by her cousins, one of whom I also knew from back when we were dating.

I don’t really know whether noticing someone before they notice you is an advantage or not. It seems to give you the upper hand because you have the time to look at them, see how they’ve changed, and guess what their life is like. However, having noticed them first also gives you the pressure of having to speak to them, and you must speak to them; otherwise, you will have this unfinished story to tell your friend:

“Hey, so I was at the airport yesterday, and you know who I saw? My first girlfriend!”

“Oh, really? What happened next?”

“Nothing, I just looked at her. She didn’t change much.”

“Oh, okay.”

Quite a disappointing story.

Plus, that strong feeling of surprise will undoubtedly awaken some memories, and the memories will bring back the excitement of our first dates, the sadness of the breakup, and then the nostalgia about my hometown, school, and the time that has already passed. But I want to avoid all that, or at least share it with the person who was involved. So, I must speak to her to make the whole thing more casual.

So right after walking through passport control, I start nervously rehearsing phrases and opening lines I might use when I approach her. “Hi, nice to see you. It’s been a while.” “Hey, I almost didn’t recognize you.” “Hi, where are you flying to?” Honestly, all of these options are great. Let’s just focus on myself and make sure I buy the gifts at duty-free, get a coffee and some water, and find my gate. Rehearsing conversations is so stupid and unnatural anyway. I think I got this idea from Hollywood movies, where you see a character being nervous and practicing their lines out loud in front of a mirror. Who really does that? It’s ridiculous.

So, I mind my own business. I buy my gifts, check that the flight is on time, and go to the café on the second floor. And while I’m walking toward the counter, pulling my trolley bag, I see her on my left, sipping coffee and looking directly into my eyes. This does not feel pleasant. “Oh my God,” I think. She still hates me because of the way I broke up with her, even though that was 12 years ago.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hello,” she replies.

“…I didn’t think I would see you here.”

“Well, I visit my family sometimes. It’s something I do, so I have to fly.”

That was sarcastic, I think to myself.

“Where do you live?” I ask.

“I’ve been living in London for the past seven years. And you?”

“I live here. I moved away for my studies but eventually returned home.”

“How nice. Good for you.” She says quite abruptly.

I continue: “And these are your friends?”

“Cousins! They are my cousins.”

The one I briefly knew looks at me and extends her hand: “Nice to meet you.” I shake their hands, confused but pretending this is our first encounter to make it less weird.

Then a very strange feeling entangles me. It feels like a neutralizing poison that disrupts my rhythm. Before talking to them, I had full control of my actions; I knew what I was doing: where to walk, what to say. I had a flow. Now I am stuck in this limbo, not knowing how to act or what to say. I think I must leave, but I don’t have it in me to find a logical conclusion to our discussion and to say goodbye. “Hey, it was nice meeting you!” “Wishing you a great flight!” “Maybe we’ll talk another time.” All of these would have been suitable, but all my senses have turned their backs on such an ending. So, I just stand there, frozen.

Time feels stopped, and I wait for the right words to appear in my brain so I can say them out loud. Perhaps I should end with a gesture, just like a mime. Maybe I should tip my hat in a polite manner to communicate goodbye. But I don’t have a hat, so I just stand there.

It starts to feel awkward standing there, but suddenly I realize what to do. I embrace the awkwardness. I start feeling good. I changed my gaze, which had been scattered, jumping from place to place. I direct it toward her, looking at her confidently, inquiringly, as if passing the ball to her court. I feel that I have done my part by approaching her, making conversation, and asking about her life and all. I have done the polite thing; now what is your response? Will you be nice as well, or will you throw some poison at me?

She looks back at me. She understands my intention; I see it in her eyes. The weight of the 12 years separation is on her. She picks up the awkward feeling from me like a torch and starts nervously looking for something to say.

“Hmm, well, it was nice seeing you… and quite unexpected!”

“Unexpected?” asks her cousin. “We see him a few times per year at this airport, and you never have the courage to approach him. And then you end up discussing the times in high school and your first dates, and you get all nostalgic about it.”

“Really?” I ask.

“What? That is not true,” says my ex-girlfriend hesitantly.

“I would have felt the same way if I saw you,” I say.

We spent the next hour talking. The cousin admitted to reaching out to me after our breakup to try to get us together again. That didn’t work- I was too determined. I left because I suspected she cheated. But I never inquired, I just disappeared. Maybe that was a mistake on my side. I avoided approaching her and didn't initiate a conversation since. Now she did the same to me.

This one was about communication, I guess. My friend will be confused when I tell him what happened at the airport today.