2

            
           From near empty when she'd arrived, the waiting are swelled into a teaming mush-mash of human protoplasm in the two hours she'd been reading one of her New Yorkers. Boarding was announced. .It was great at last to be  walking through the tarp tunnel into the belly of the plane. Past the stewards and captain at the door came the bottle-necked aisle backed up with passengers loading their stuff overhead.This was just a timed relaxation in the tension of the dance. Her movements were  fluid as she scooted past a couple to get to her window seat. Even as petite as she was, it took some agility to situate her gear underneath the seat in front of her and stay in  form. And then the inevitable happened. It was their turn to take off, and the engines roared as you felt the energy pushing you back. And that fantastic moment when you feel the wheels leave the tarmac, and see then everything fall away and to become like an ant colony.  Two hours later they landed in Charolette where the performance art of opening and shutting  your bag, taking your shoes on and off, played a few times till  she finally slithered into her window seat.of the overseas flight to Dublin.

            Every time she flew coach overseas, which was most of the time, where you were supposed to sleep on the overnight flight, anticipating sleeping in that position filled her with dread. She fished out a New Yorker and noticed the couple next to here was reading books.Then after the whole ceremony of being served dinner, given free wine because they had run out of dinners and their row had to wait while everyone else was happily munching away, but both she and the couple declined and had diet cokes, and water for her; so that, followed by the clean up,  the start of a movie you had to buy earphones for, the lights dimming so you had to read by the overhead beam: you get to a point where leaning against the wall on an airline pillow, covered by a thin airline blanket was not such a bad idea. Before you know it, you wake up with a jerk and see only two hours have passed. Next time it's one hour and that's it. The sun is starting to light up the horizon.

            . The sun was blazing on the horizon, and the sea blinded her. Quays were lining up for the toilets. The breakfast carts rumbled along at snail's pace with steaming coffee or tea. She made a quick run to one of the tiny toilets to freshen up,  and finally was eating ham and cheese with delight, leaving the bread,  and sipping piping hot tea. Apparently they knew hoe to make tea here and it was not the usual let down.Then suddenly land--- was that possibly Ireland passing bellow them?

            It looked so familiar, a jagged coast line like a live satellite cam shot, thought she'd only seen it in movies before, all those patches of green bordered by lines of trees and stone fences, ant the little hamlets scattered about in between. Could that be Cork? They were stealing over sea side again and a long ribbon of beach was seen coming up ahead. Where was Wexford?  That had to be Curracloe beach. That meant Castlebridge was somewhere right there. Where was that village? But they had already passed over and were moving up the east coast.

            .Then she could see the city and knew it was Dublin They were beginning to drop for the airport  She could see  cars and buses below on veins of country roads. Now a four lane, Was he on that bus this very instant on his way to the airport?.

            He had kept joking about himself being a scary looking man, an ex fighter with a broken nose, but she thought he looked kind of cute with a boyish face and big round eyes in his photographs, bulging biceps, the best you could tell from that odd angle holding the camera down at his waist shooting a portrait in the mirror. But the blue eyes he spoke of did not show. His hair was a dirty blond.

             Last year when he was formally ( if one could ever call his tone completely straight, like, when was he not on? ) introducing himself, he let it be known that he was forty one. She had kept her age to herself, and he was too tactful to insist. But the pictures she's sent him were good and clear and spoke for themselves and he had guessed her to be 28 or early 30's begging pardon  if he were presuming wrong. She just laughed and called him a funny boy. Why spoil the mystery?

            Since she had first read about the Camino de Santiago by happen chance in an old Atlantic magazine, she had wanted to do this trek.As much fun as it sounded, you could not evade the fact that it was a  holy pilgrimage to the Cathedral of St. James, tread by hundreds of thousands before her, kings and queens and paupers, some on their knees.
           What were her intentions? What miracle was she  to ask of James the Great was a question haunting her the pas two months. If miracles were even in order  when  all you could do was not even a fifth of the whole 500 mile pilgrimage. But were  one so bold, what was worthy to address one of the best friends of Jesus of Nazareth for his consideration after the rivers of thousands of souls migrating in his direction, all with their personal intentions. She wished she could ask for all the little girls in whorehouses around the world to be miraculously freed, but knew such were not the miracles one asked forl. Probably freedom from a few demons of the past, and courage to be what she was meant to be, so she could give something back and leave the world a better place. If such a thing were possible. Even were she not inclined toward Christian mysticism,  it had to be a life changing experience, if it already wasn't. Would you come out the same person as you had gone in? Hope not.

            Then Dublin airport was in plain view with it's flashing tower, and they dropped rapidly, flying level with the ground, poised for touch down. After they disembarked and  even before they had to walk the endless corridors and security checks, she turned into the first ladies lounge. She unpacked her toiletries eager to scrub her face; brush her teeth.. Then in the stall she did a complete sponge bath with those toweletts  mother had given her ages ago in college, scented ever so lightly with some cologne. Back at the sink she  put on a light touch of foundation, brown mascara, and pink lip gloss. To fluff up her baby fine hair, she sprinkled baby power close to the roots. It was such fine hair. She could ruin it with one overheated hair dryer. Then she shook it out over he shoulders ready with confidence to face come what may..

            Walking out into the glare of the milling terminal with high-end shops and cafes lining the court, she kept wondering if his face might not  just morph out of the crowds. Would she really recognize him? Even though it was two hours till he said he'd arrive, at eleven, she would not put it past him if he'd just pop up in front of her.