Free Upgrade (A story about ceasing opportunity)

The man sitting next to me on the plane threw apple juice into his wine. A good wine. I could have cried.

 

Then he rubbed a strong menthol ointment on his eyelids. Tears were imminent.

 

We were seated together in the emergency exit and as the stewardess was showing us how to help other people in an emergency, the smell from the Vicks Vapour Rub stuff began to burn MY eyes. That shit was strong and I am certain that the manufacturers did not intend that it be used in that way.

 

Next thing, I am being upgraded to a lovely seat in the front of business class.

 

That’s when the “tears” really started to gush! My “fear” was apparently palpable and they were glad I was “feeling better” by the time we landed. I accepted their apology.

 

I waved Mr AJBE (Apple Juice Burny Eyes) well. He had no idea just how grateful I was to have met him. 

 

And, just like that I learnt another important LIFE LESSON:

THINGS TURN OUT BEST FOR THOSE WHO MAKE THE BEST OF THE WAY THINGS TURN OUT. 

 

Aluta continua, as they say.  I urge you to look for those magical opportunities to carpe those damn diems too!

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Zahir (A story about getting even)

I was NOT happy with my accommodation. I booked a self-catering apartment on the beach (with “distant sea views”) and when I arrived, I found that I had actually booked a whole house (with a person inside it)

 

Now, if I have gotten a good vibe from the person, I would have thought that perhaps there was an adventure to be had, but I did not.  It was definitely NOT love at first sight.

 

Her bedroom became my bedroom. Her spot on the couch mine. The coffee mug with her name called my name. Shit was weird.

 

But, I was there on a “pilgrimage” of sorts, and I needed to remain centered.

I noticed that the book on the bedside table happened to be “The Zahir” by Paulo Coelho — one of the very few of his books I had not yet read and the VERY book I had lost in the airport. It was fate.  There was no way I was going to be polite and let her continue reading it, so I grabbed it.  I carried it around the house from room to room (just in case she pounced) and savoured each beautiful moment of reading pleasure. 

 

The home owner had a way about her. Even when you could not see her, she was there.  Like in Big Brother.  She was hard to ignore.

 

I got lost in the pages of the book, and each time I felt irritated by her presence (washing the dishes, folding towels, bloody making coffee at 5am) I would just keep reading. It came as no surprise to me that The Zahir means ‘the obvious’ or ‘conspicuous’ in Arabic.  I mean, what are the chances?  Those were the only words I could use to describe the home owner. Always bloody there!

 

I wrote her a note when I left. I said “Thank you for sharing your home with me. I will always remember your presents…I mean presence! xoxo”

 

…and then I tucked her book (aka the “present”) into my suitcase, along with the mandatory miniature toiletries and waved her goodbye.

 

I figured we were square.

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.