Oliver Benjamin
I needed to work fast. In the two hours before Charly’s plane landed,
I wanted to take care of any busywork ahead of time, eliminating any
traveling pressures for the first night at least. Budget traveling, I’d
been told, was the most stressful relaxation one could undertake, and
since seeing Charly again was already almost more than I could
handle and so much was resting on this first night of intimacy that I
didn’t want to entertain the possibility of sleeping in a hostel
dormitory. After I claimed my pack, I booked a room at an
inexpensive bed and breakfast, learned the bus routes, and changed
a few hundred dollars. Then, I went into the bathroom, sat on the can
and tried to calm myself down. After flushing the toilet so that no one
would know that I was actually just sitting there doing nothing, I
stood up and fixed my hair and washed my jet-lagged face in front of
the mirror. After advising myself to get a grip, I turned to walk briskly
out into the extraordinarily ordinary Dublin airport terminal 32.
But before I reached the door, a strange thing happened. A man
with a patent-leather briefcase pulled me aside politely, or as politely
as it is possible to do so in a men’s bathroom. Nevertheless, his
manner and dress suggested that he might be someone important, so
I offered him the benefit of the doubt. He then spoke to me in a
confidential tone, but with a gregarious smile:
“Pardon me, Sir, but could I please see your boarding pass?” he
winked. I nodded and rifled through the wad of papers, baggage
claim tickets and candy wrappers that were in my front pocket. After
an embarrassingly long search, I found the scrap of paper.
After glancing at it, the man said, “Thank you. May I ask, did
you notice anything suspicious about any of the passengers seated
next to you?”
Other than the old lady, I couldn’t really remember anybody out
of the ordinary, so I replied, “No. Why?”
“Unfortunately, that’s classified information at this point, Sir,
but if you remember anything, please call us at this number. Thank
you so much.” He handed me a small card with “Thank you very
much” and a phone number printed on it. Then he pulled something
out of his coat pocket and handed it to me, adding, “And for your
help, please keep this souvenir from Irish Airlines. Have a nice stay
in Dublin, and thank you kindly.” He turned and made a hasty exit,
and I looked down at the object, which was a small, gold-colored
four-leaf clover pin. It had a relief of the Irish Airlines logo on it, and
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