There’s nowhere I’ve seen people kiss as much as at the airport. Kisses on the lips. Some short, some long. Kisses on the cheeks. Playful or tender kisses on the forehead. And, not to forget, kisses blown across lengths of bank line to reach their loved ones as they depart.
Glowing with love, they watched each other and kissed each other again and again. The trolley was piled high with heavy suitcases and a clothing bag. I guessed that it held a wedding dress for the bride. “We’re getting married on December twenty-fifth on Bali,” she said while she gave me her documents so I could check them both in. For a split second, I thought I heard Mariah Carey singing All I want for Christmas is you.
They had met each other two years earlier on a dating site and it had clicked immediately. Then everything went into overdrive. “But, why Bali?” I asked the bride. It had always been her dream to celebrate her wedding with sun, sea and swaying palms. Six months ago, when he kneeled in front of her, he had to promise to marry her on the romantic Indonesian island. The bridegroom-to-be remarked that he wanted to share his life with his beloved and was willing to do anything for her. The passengers waiting behind them started to laugh — clearly family members and members of the bridal party, all of whom recognised the romance of their early years in love.
In my computer system I could see that the couple had indicated that they were going on their honeymoon. I reassured them that the cabin crew would take extra care with the wedding dress. I made no mention of the champagne on board. I thought that would be a nice surprise.
“Happy married Christmas,” I said, and the couple left my counter arm-in-arm. Tilting our heads to each other and smiling, my colleague and I watched the party leave and, for a moment, our thoughts were among tropical islands and fairy-tale marriage proposals. “So romantic,” my colleague sighed. Then we screamed with laughter.
“Next in line please!”