A Real Hoot | Mile High Scrub | 9
Caviar, Tea, or Me?
Hung! — Brad
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Brad was the first to move. He gave Carrie one last kiss, extricated himself, and rose to his feet.
“Shower time!”
Carrie sat up, grabbed the edge of the padded bench, and hoisted herself to a tall, slender, and well-arranged vertical position. Brad admired her movements, tucking them aside for later solo use. The next two weeks would be kind of empty, but at least he would have some memories to hold tight.
“How are we going to fit in there?” she asked, looking at the narrow glass cylinder. “There won’t be any room for water. I mean, it will be fun, but not so great for getting clean.”
“We’re not. You’re going to have this one, and I’ll put the robe on and stroll across to the other shower. If anyone asks, we had one midnight shower apiece apart. Now, watch carefully. This button turns the shower on, this controls the temperature, and this dial shows how long you have left. In theory, there’s only five minutes, but the timer resets each time the door is opened, if you are game. You’ve got a whole rack of soaps and lotions and potions there, and nobody is going to chase you down and say you are too long in the shower. It’s just us. The great unwashed in Business aren’t allowed in.”
Carrie nodded. Brad sat down on the bench. “I’m going to watch to make sure you’ve got it started before I go. That okay?”
“Thanks,” she said.
“My pleasure,” he grinned. “Every boy’s fantasy to watch a gorgeous blonde take a shower. Oh yeah. One more thing.”
Brad pulled out the gift-wrapped box and the card. Carrie’s expression changed.
“I got some Haigh chocolates for the attendants. Got to keep them sweet, or they might tell on us. Make sure the box and the card are visible before you go. Nobody on the plane cares about them, and they’ll appreciate it.”
He stopped. There was something niggling at his brain. Something he’d forgotten. Oh yeah.
“Ah, if you get out before I do, don’t be surprised if it looks like there’s someone sleeping in your bed. I gathered up a couple of pillows and things from the window seat and bulked them up under your covers. Just in case someone looked in and wondered why there were two passengers missing and only one shower being used.”
He stooped and took a robe and towel from the floor, lifted the tote bag, and looked at her. God, but she was beautiful. Every sweet inch of her. He filed the image away. Would he ever see her again without clothes on? Would he ever see her after this flight?
Carrie blew him a kiss from inside the shower. She pressed the button and the water began flowing, splashing on to her skin. She raised a hand and made a “bye-bye, you can go already” wave.
Brad cracked the door open. Nobody outside. Just a few paces across to the other shower suite. So long as there was nobody inside. The pilots had their own facilities next to the cockpit. Oh well, now or never. He stepped out, closed the door behind him, and hustled across the top of the roped-off staircase to the other door. He heard a gasp from the bottom, where the Economy passengers were queued up for the toilets. Ooops, he’d forgotten to put the robe on!
Thankfully the other door was unlocked, and he slipped inside. Who cares if the lower deck had seen him? Just add to the legend of First Class, where passengers could stroll around without a stitch, swilling champagne and caviar.
Ten minutes later, sparkling clean in grey pyjamas, he sat back in his seat. Carrie gave him a thumbs up from hers. Mission accomplished!
“I poked my head into the galley and ordered more caviar and champagne for two. I hope that’s okay, darling?”
Brad savoured that “darling” for a moment. Just perfect. He would have preferred the 21-year-old single malt now, but hey, First World problem.
“Exactly right,” he said. “You can fly with me anytime.”
“Your attendant was still reading in the galley. Didn’t say a word about showers or empty beds.”
“Good. I guess you know you are now an official member of the Mile High Club?”
“Goodness, Brad, I must be a Gold member by now. But that was most certainly the best experience yet. Thank you, again. Oh, I ran into your bathroom cleaners when I came out. I thanked them and showed them your gift.”
A few minutes later a flight attendant appeared, serving a caviar tray and pouring champagne, Brad first and then Carrie. That irritated him a little, but he guessed they went by status first, rather than manners.
“Yum. I can give it my undivided attention. They even use proper Iranian caviar from the Caspian Sea. Totally worthy of respect. Ah, not that I didn’t enjoy your help earlier.”
“Iranian caviar, hey?”Carrie looked at it with interest. “That’s where I’m headed.”
“Iran? Wow.” Brad almost held his breath. “What for?”
“Partly to take commercial photographs of a tour group now that tourism is ramping up in Iran, and mostly because I think I can make a book out of it with my own photographs. You know, sell it for three hundred bucks a pop, really clean up.”
“Ah, which tour?” Brad asked.
“Magic Carpet. Mostly Australians, I’m told. Older people, I’ll bet. We’re meeting in Dubai for the flight to Tehran.” Carrie paused, looking at Brad in puzzlement. “What?”
“Funny, I’m going to Tehran too. With a tour group. Magic Carpet, as it happens. I think I’m going to enjoy the trip a lot more than I thought I would. Cheers!”
He held up his flute and clinked it against Carrie’s.
Two short women in brown Emirates smocks walked up Brad’s aisle. He smiled and he made the palms-together “wai” gesture, bowing his head to them. They stopped. “Hello, Sir,” one said. “These are yours, yes?” Her colleague offered Brad a hanger, with a pair of trousers, a shirt, and some boxers neatly attached.
“Ah. Um, thank you. Thank you again. Much appreciated.”
They looked at each other, giggled, and moved on.
Carrie smiled at Brad. “You know, it’s going to be a real hoot travelling through a religious dictatorship with you. Can’t wait.”
As I write these words, it has been more than a year since I left Brad and Carrie hurtling towards an interesting future. Tomorrow I’ll join them and see what they have been up to while my attention has been diverted with the growing horror that is 2020.
I kind of suspect that they will be having a tonne of escapist fun in one way or another.
I love Iran. It is a beautiful country full of friendly, generous, whimsical people. As Carrie says, tourism is ramping up there, but it is not a place overcrowded with American tourists, even in the old normal.
Good news — unless you are an American, I guess — but Americans seem to have this wacko notion that it is full of religious fundamentalists intent on killing everybody or torturing them in prison for trivial stuff. America might like to look in the mirror. I feel safer walking through Isfahan at midnight than I do in New Orleans likewise.
But enough of that. The rest of us are here to have fun. Laissez les bons temps rouler!
Britni
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