Dining On A Plane

6 Aug

Anthony Bourdain was drunk on a plane to Italy. I was on a solo, week long trip and there he was, sitting across from me at a long buffet style table on the airplane. The wine was flowing and he was shooting off his mouth about food and travel, of course. I decided that, when we landed, I would follow him and go where ever he was going. Because, duh. To my left, my mom’s friend started talking to me in Hebrew and I answered her back a little louder than I needed to, in hopes Anthony would hear me and think I was interesting. Maybe then he would take me with him around Italy. I had no plans.

Why do I travel like this, plan-less?

But Mr. Bourdain was too busy waving his wine glass around, slurring about the best places to eat in Southeast Asia. I looked at him, hoping he would catch my eyes. I sent him psychic messages: look at me look at me look at me. I coughed loudly and yelled in Hebrew across the table to another of my mother’s friends. Nothing worked. Anthony Bourdain would never notice me. I realized he probably had security and I would not be able to follow him without getting arrested. I devised a new plan. I would go where ever the Italian wind would take me.

 

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