G on my mind

That's G for Giles. I mean Georgia. I mean Giles, Georgia, Giles......

I was in the international terminal at Bush giddily checking in for my flight to GEORGIA! The Republic that is, not the state. The one north of Turkey, south of Russia, east of the Black Sea, west of Azerbaijan. Armenia is somewhere in there too. It had been ten long years since I had left the country and here I was off to the former Soviet Union - a girlhood dream. 

Boarding pass - check. Passport - check. Bags checked - check. On to security...

Oh what do we have here? I see groups of men scattered in twos and threes all wearing identical Houston Dynamo track suits. The Dynamo must be on their way to a game. But where? This was the international terminal. I had to figure this out. Other travelers didn't seem to be nearly as enchanted as I was, but well, I have a history of running into professional athletes in random places and I was going to make the most of this. 

Ooh, there's one all by himself. 

I make it through the initial security checkpoint and head to the gray bins. The one by himself zooms through the line with his special I'm-in-a-group-that-travels-a lot-status.There are two conveyor belts to choose from. He chooses the one on the left, smart choice. He's now in line behind me. And....well, I'm me, soo...

"So where's your game this weekend?"

He smiles. "Kansas City."

"And they have you flying through the international terminal?"

"Yeah, because yada yada yada." 

We talk about flying and the weather and where he's from. 

He's attractive and dark and has a British accent. 

I slowly take off my shoes, and my belt, and my...oh wait, just my shoes. 

I turn next for my carry on.

Be still my soul. This rugged, handsome, British, soccer man has reached down, grabbed my suitcase and placed it on the belt. Like it was nothing. Swoon. There are gentleman in this world. And they play soccer. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter goes my heart. 

I've met professional athletes before. I mean Dwight Howard was pretty awesome. But this man. This man seems real. 

Speech has escaped me and I'm ushered to the body scanner. I may or may not have shaken my booty while in it. 

I grab my bag. He comes on through.

We chat some more. He says he hopes to see me at a game soon. I tell him I'll be there. We linger. Neither of us wanting to go to our gate. But it's time. We embrace. He hesitates, pulls away and...OH...returns for a slow, passionate kiss goodbye. And I'm off. Floating down the terminal with my bag as if it were nothing. Giles on my mind.

Sigh. To dream...or not to dream. But which was it? You tell me.