The Sailor from Barcelona

In lieu of Valentine’s Day…

So I sit down in my seat boarding a plane that I didn’t want to be on headed back to Ohio from Germany this summer. Great, my co-flier isn’t wearing his shoes. Who the hell does he think he is? Matthew McConaughey? Great. He also wants to talk to me. This is going to be a long ass flight.

He starts off by telling me he’s a little bit nervous to fly. He’s speaking English, but I can tell he’s German. I, at this point in the day, am totally livid. After a long series of events, I was supposed to be bumped from this flight and headed to London to meet a boy that I had met in Cologne. Not to mention that I wasn’t ready for my vacation to be over. My day had been a roller coaster ride of am or aren’t I getting on this plane up until the very last minute. I tried to think of anything to say that would get this guy to understand that I wasn’t about to have a twelve hour conversation with him. I made some kind of a joke that since I wasn’t supposed to be on this plane so this was probably going turn out like that movie, Final Destination.

In a very Alexander Petrovsky way he says to me: “You make a funny?”

Alright, crazy barefoot guy, I’ll talk to you.

As we wait for what was beginning to feel like hours I found out that Christian grew up in Germany but raced sailboats in Barcelona. He was currently traveling with a team to sail from California to Hawaii. It was pretty impressive. The way he talked about sailing and being completely detached from the rest of the world was really kind of beautiful. I was taken by his passion for the sea. I told him my big story, where I had been and where I was headed… I spoke to him in German and he would reply in broken English. We actually were talking so much that we didn’t even notice that an hour had gone by and the plane hadn’t even taken off yet.

After an hour and half the pilot finally announced that there was somewhat of a problem with the plane’s wing. They were going to try and fix it and asked us for our patience. Again, I am livid as the airline had earlier offered to bump me and send me home another day. Great, now I’m sitting on a broken plane. Christian and I went through the entire Sky Mall catalog and laughed at the ridiculousness of the products within. We also had a front row seat to watching the crew repair our broken wing. As we watched the two guys pop in and out of a panel on the wing, Christian and made up what they were talking about. To us they were talking about what they were going to have for lunch instead of working out the details of fixing the wing of some hundred thousand dollar jumbo plane. It was very funny.

Three hours later Christian was inviting me to go sailing with him in Barcelona. I suggest that he comes to Cleveland and we take a little trip on Lake Erie. “Lake Erie?” he laughs, “Might as well go sailing in a, how do you say, puddle.” I was beginning to like this guy, his accent and even his bare feet. I began to look past his life-vest looking vest, Hawaiian T-shirt and cheesy Gilligan’s Island hat to see some baby blues to drool over…

Finally the pilots announced that we had to get off the plane. They were going to move us to a waiting area. There we waited another two hours. Finally they announced that the flight was canceled. Aaaaannd then they had us wait in baggage claim for another two hours!!! Our bags didn’t even go anywhere! It was quite a mess. I have never seen so many cranky air traveler in my life. I, of course, was the only one who was happy! Yeah, bitches, I’m going to London, baby!!! After the fiasco of making us wait all day I made sure that I got the flight home  exactly when I wanted.

They put all five hundred people up in one hotel, so you can imagine the line that Christian and I had to wait in. His team was about twenty people ahead of us. We got pretty friendly with another couple in line next to us. When Christian went to chat with his team, I asked the couple why he wasn’t in line with them. It was seriously a very very horrible day of waiting. The husband said, “Duh, he’s waiting for you.” I seriously am that dumb. I didn’t really think anything of him inviting me to Barcelona. Not to mention, at this point in the day, I was disgusting. I woke up a 5am to catch a train to the airport and had been lugging a 100lb suitcase everywhere I went. I was certain that my hair looked like straight mayonnaise.

We finally get our room keys and Christian and I agree to drop our stuff off in our rooms and meet for our free buffet and drinks.

I did just that. But when I knocked on his door, he didn’t answer. It was 9p.m. The buffet was almost over. I’m no fool. Fatty needed to eat! See ya, Sailor! I had some grub with a couple of American soldiers. They were actually pretty upset on how the airlines handled things. Instead of making everyone wait they could have been rebooking everyone. One of the guys had to miss his brother’s wedding because of the mix-up. It was pretty sad.

I after a quick smoke I went back upstairs. Some of the flight’s other passengers were getting drunk and a little creepy. I knocked on Christian’s door again.

He answers the door wearing nothing but a towel.

This was definitely a made for TV moment. His tightly chiseled abs glistened in the light. Oh my. This had never happened to me before. It’s one of those things that only happens on Sex and the City. This just doesn’t happen in Ohio. Plain and simple.

He, apparently, like a smart person, decided to take a shower before meeting a charming plane passenger for drinks.


I was so nervous that I don’t really know what happened next, but I remember telling him that I had already eaten and that I had to go plan the hows and the wheres of getting to London. I bid him Adieu and wished him happy travels! I mean I was already going to London to meet a boy. Did I really need hot, handsome, Sailor Christian?

Looking back on that moment in time I am kicking myself in the ass. How often in a lifetime do really hot people open the door in their towels?

Why didn’t I run to my room and take a quick shower? They have soap in Germany too, ya know! Why did I think it was more important to eat instead of shower? Why didn’t he tell me that this was going to happen? I really wish that I had a much better ending to this story. The moral of the story? It’s beyond me. Maybe I should rename this blog “Things that suck”. Maybe I should put a missed connections ad on Craig’s list. Perhaps I’ll get really tech savvy and put a paypal button on this biatch to see if I can raise money to go find my half naked Barcelonian Sailor…

That’d be sooooo romantic…

Anywho, I’ll leave you with that. I’d wish everyone a very Happy Valentine’s day, but I don’t want to. I hate this holiday, even when I’m not single. It is really stupid. I’m going to make T-shirts: “Valentines Day: Causing Fights since 1847” (That’s when that johann in Great Britain began a Vday card company), “Your Valentine’s Day can S my Valentine’s Day’s D”, “Sometimes I cry on the treadmill” and lastly “Team I don’t Care who Brad Pitt is banging”. I actually only think that the latter would be a seller, but who knows…

This weekend I am off to Chicago with my friend Kate to see the John Butler Trio :: Valentine’s Day drunkeness will ensue.


1 Response to “The Sailor from Barcelona”

  1. 1 Christina February 12, 2010 at 7:29 pm

    I really love you! Does this mean you won’t marry me on valentines day???

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February 2010
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