Day 5: Runaway Plane

And then came the day I had been dreading. I called in sick for work, after 3 hours of sleep and with my heavy broken heart that was not even a real lie. When we arrived at the airport Americano was stopped at the luggage check-in. Seems he couldn’t take more than one bag on the plane according to his ticket. I told him it was fate saying he shouldn’t get on that plane, he should stay with me in Ireland, but by that time his other bag, containing all his clothes, was already on its way to the plane…

We said our goodbyes, sang a few songs (‘I’m not crying’ by Flight of the Conchords was quite the favourite that day) and tried to laugh it off. It didn’t work. He asked me to send him a text when I got back safely to Dublin. I asked him to send me a text when he got back safely to Chicago. I couldn’t take it anymore, I was starting to tear up, and I didn’t want his last sight of Ireland to be this crying Belgian girl. So I hugged him one last time, and left thinking I would never see him again. I walked away.

I tried to stop crying on my way to the bus but it didn’t work. Luckily the bus didn’t arrive too soon, so by the time I got on I had finally gotten a grip on myself and my tears again, though I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. I figured I wouldn’t hear him any time soon, that it was all just a sweet holiday romance, that maybe we would chat a few times in the next few weeks and would then forget about each other as life went on. While I was thus engaged in being totally depressed and feeling extremely sorry for myself, I got a text message saying he was at the terminal and missed me already…