I thought about my fantasies as I flew to Alburquerque on Sunday (on my way to Durango, Colorado.) I'll write about my winter holiday soon - promise.
After a brief What have you been up to for the last ... years catch up, he confides that I was the one that got away and that my husband of 24 years is one lucky som-bitch. At that moment I hear that my plane is boarding. I put out my hand, we shake, and I leave, but not before noting a sad look of regret in his eyes.
I have to admit, even as I wrote that I realized I'm some therapist's wet dream. If you've got thoughts about what a therapist might tell me, go ahead and write them out in the comments section. I may first need to get a drink before I read them. I have a feeling they may not be all that flattering. Would it help if I mention I'm generally a really nice person? No? Well, damn.
Okay, here's my second airport fantasy.
I'm walking to the gate and slow down at one of the book/magazine shops along the way. Low and behold on one of the stands at the front of the shop is my book! I can die now. I've seen my book in the airport and my biggest dream has been realized.
Yes, it's true. I will gauge my success as an author not by the number of books I sell or by the number of kind e-mails I receive from my readers. My success will be gauged by seeing my book in the airport.
I know. I know. This is a stupid fantasy. Hell, they both are. But they're mine for some reason or another.
I've shared mine. Do you have any airport fantasies??