By Anonymous
At the airport in Florida, set to fly home and return to his beloved Connecticut, Chris Visentin sat with content. Not even the crusty leather seat he had to hunch over in the terminal could spoil the daydreams of the wedding that played in his mind. He decided to take a stroll. A chance to briefly come up for air from his serenity. He passed the board of flights where his flight departure time was supposed to be. His mind toyed with the spontaneity of another trip.
He quickly shelved the idea as mere fantasy and continued his way down to his departure.
But it was now switched to the terrible word CANCELED. His heart skipped a beat when he read it. What would he now do? How could this be? And what about his students? He hustled to one of the help desks, confident to get a new flight.
The line in front of him was long, grueling, and he was tortured with going to the back. It moved slowly. He felt his mood decline like when he was a child and his mother told him ‘No! We are not buying that Dungeon Master’s Guide for D&D today.’
A woman turned around to start talking to him and that’s when it hit him. She wore a simple disguise, but he recognized her. It was his fellow Kent graduate; Lana del Ray.
Never, in a trillion years, had he expected to see her and definitely not that she would recognize him.
“Chrysanthemum!?” her voice rang out. It was not as melodic as the songs he had heard years prior at the Kent reunion.
“Ehm. What?”
“It is you!” She embraced him like the old friend he was. He stood arms by his side, merely receiving the hug. “I never thought I would see you again!”
“I never thought I would be called Chrysanthemum again.”
As the line inched forward, Lana Del Rey started to talk about how she had wanted to get in touch with him until her career really took off. She recalled their time together as part of the Kent Radio staff.
Like a stray shot in all the small talk, the deciding moment finally came, “You should come to the concert tonight.”
“I’d prefer not to…” Mr. Visentin replied. He rubbed his neck sort of sheepishly.
“Oh! What is one more night!?”
“But the students!”
She weighed the options there before him like the great lady of fortune, “VIP concert tickets…Forms of poetry…this is a tough one!”
He looked up at the long line.
Lana got so happy with this response that she immediately started jumping up and dancing. He had never felt more embarrassed in his whole life. With a quick tip of his flat cap he slinked out of line, VIP tickets in hand. A pass of goodluck like this only means one thing for Mr. Visentin, more coffee.
He sat down at a vacant table at the coffee shop and pulled out his laptop, placing it next to his concert tickets. The cursor blinked at him as he composed his email to the English Department. He began to type, “Flight canceled…I won’t be able to return for a few days…”
The Highlander 