654. Not a member!

I flew with American Airlines from SFO to O'Hare, and then with Aer Lingus (great prices, by the way!) from O'Hare to Dublin. The terminal in O'Hare gave me my first taste of Ireland. I think I was the only non-Irish person Dublin bound, and I felt like an Irish family reunion party intruder. I witnessed young men bantering with senior women, middle-aged women chatting and laughing, and business attired men sharing a drink (purchased from the bar-on-wheels kiosk at the terminal entrance) with gray haired older gentlemen. At first glance it seemed everybody knew one another, but this wasn't the case I slowly realized. "Were you on holiday?" "Were abouts do you live?" are questions one asks a stranger.

I had a window seat, and a man my age was assigned to the seat next to me. He was very friendly, and I was happy to let him mark up my Ireland guide with his list of do's and don'ts. He also included his phone number, I noticed.

About an hour into the nearly 8 hour flight, he turned to me quite seriously and asked, "Have you ever kissed anybody a mile high?"

He was probably used to me saying "Pardon me?" and "Excuse me?" when I found his accent difficult to follow. I had heard what he said this time, and simply repeated it back to him for conformation. "Did you just ask me if I've ever kissed anybody a mile high?" After I said this I couldn't contain my laughter. I had a brief moment of fear for hurting his feelings, but was quickly relieved when he joined in. I'm glad he heard how... how... cliché and silly his come-on line sounded.

"Yes, I did!" he replied holding his laughing belly. "Would you like to join the Mile High club?"

"Do I get a pin?"

"A pin?" he asked.

"A pin. A button."

"Oh, no. You'll have to do a lot more than that to earn a Mile High club button."

"??!!" I thought it best not to reply with anything other than a surprised look.

However, we were still both in hysterics.

"Well, I can say with absolute certainty, that I have never been asked a question like that before!" I finally say.

A little while later into the flight, after I feigned sleep because I feared he might get more bold, his leg inches over to mine so that it's touching mine. I inch mine away, only to have his follow.

When I succeeded in moving mine far enough from his reach, I relaxed and feigned more sleep. A bit later I feel his feet on mine.

"Is this the Mile High Footsie Club initiation?" I ask.

"Yes!"

"Oh. My. Hmmmm." I say through my growing annoyance and deliberate frown. I was slightly amused by this guy's brashness, but I felt like a trapped mouse who didn't want to know how the cat handled verbal rejection.

A lavatory in Dublin's car park lit with blue lights.

The rest of the flight went smoothly without incident. We finally found a comfortable conversation groove appropriate for two kind, curious international strangers. He excitedly told me about his country's recent economic boom (Ireland is Europe's 2nd most prosperous country. What an amazing recovery!) and Irish politics.

Evidence of Ireland's recovery is all around. Scores of cranes building new office and residential buildings are never far from view.

Cranes in the background.

Did you know that Ireland doesn't have a skyscraper? They have many skyticklers, and their first skyscraper is currently being built in a new development called Hueston Station. A mention of the scraper, and a snapshot of local opinion about the sprawl that follows economic prosperity: here.