Lost in Love

Was it the beer or the sunshine? Or just escaping London for a while that gave me the nerve to talk to Air Supply?

Or none of that?

I was on my way to Nashville, with three hours to kill in the airport, when I spotted two guys that looked alot like Russell Hitchcock and Graham Russell. Granted, Russell’s hair was silver-y now, but it was still them.

I didn’t think much of it. I was still laughing to myself over the conversation I had just had with my mom over the phone:

“Hi Mom. I’m in Chicago.”

“Hi Sweetie. Good you made it. How was the flight?”

“It is was fine…Holy crap. There’s John Kerry!”

Pause. “Who’s John Kerry?”

Gulp. “John Kerry! JOHN Kerry, Mom?!?”

Pause. “You mean Jim Carrey?”

Sigh.

As John Kerry, sans any kind of secret service (for obvious reasons), drove off in his VIP golf cart and Mom rattled in my ear, I watched Air Supply come out of the same jetway area.

Hmmm. I don’t think I’ll try that one on her either.

I was back in the Midwest. O’Hare terminal 3 is all glass panes and the sunlight was flooding in. I drank in the sunshine and talked to every stranger I could. I told the Mom-John Kerry story to the cashier in the book store. He thought it was funny. I told it to the cop from New Jersey (yes his name WAS Vinnie!) who sat next to me at the bar. Vinnie and I chatted about a lot of things: the mafia, travelling, our spouses, his goatee. But we really enjoyed listening to the banter of the waitstaff.

“Hey Amber,” one waitress said to the bartender, “who do you think that guy at table 112 looks like?” Vinnie and I followed the direction of Amber’s gaze. I chuckled. Sure enough, it was Air Supply.

Amber, who was about 22 (and had carded me), furrowed her brow and said, “Rod Stewart?”

The waitress giggled and raised her eyebrows. She nodded and Amber’s face got a little flush. “NO!”

Then the waitress laughed and said, “It isn’t, but it looks kinda like him.”

I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure they would know who Air Supply was anyway. Later, though, she came back with an autographed photo, so she must have found out.

I finished my soup and my second beer, said good-bye to Vinnie and wandered down to my gate. Of course, the gate had changed again, so I wandered down to the other end of the terminal to my new gate.

You know, I was beginning to think Air Supply was stalking me.

When I spotted them, standing in my gate area, I didn’t even think. I just walked right up to them and started talking.

“You know,” I said, “I saw you guys coming off your plane earlier, right behind John Kerry.”

“We spotted him too!” Graham said. “He seemed so approachable.”

“I thought you guys should have had the VIP cart with the striped awning, instead of him,” and I laughed.

“Aww, aren’t you sweet,” said Russell.

Then I told them the John Kerry-Mom story and they laughed about that. I didn’t tell them the Rod Stewart-waitress story. I didn’t think they would find that quite so funny. Graham asked where I was from. “London!” they exclaimed. Everyone exclaims that. Well, except people in London. I told them I thought they lived in London, too. But no, they don’t. Graham lives in Utah, and Russell lives in L.A.

We talked some more, but then I sensed we were going to shortly run out of things to say, so I said “well, it was nice talking to you.” And I introduced myself, “I’m Elizabeth, by the way.” And they said they were Graham and Russell. Is that funny? And then they said that I should be sure to come see them backstage at their next concert in London, that they would remember me.

So I wandered off and sat down next to a woman who I at first thought was talking to herself, but then realized she just had one of those fancy earpieces for her phone, hidden in all her hair. I watched as Air Supply went to a new gate area for their flight to Philadelphia. Gates change alot in O’Hare. And I struck up another conversation with that woman next to me, once she hung up the phone.

It was nice to be back in the Midwest.

By the way, in case you are still wondering, this is John Kerry.