Leaving at 5:25 PM, my ass, I thought as I looked at the flight status on my phone.
Two-hour delay... fuck.
“Are you kidding?” said a voice to my left as a woman got the same notification I did. The grumbling around me increased as everyone started to get the same page.
I stared out the airport window, looking at the empty jet bridge in front of me. The rain was pouring down, lightning in the background.
I sighed before picking up my carrying case and heading toward a bar I had seen while walking by.
I sat down at the bar and looked at the menu, but the bartender interrupted before I could get through it.
“What will you have?”
“What do you have on tap?”
“Blue Moon, Bud Light. Miller is out, Heineken’s out, Stella’s out.”
“Seems like you have a lot out.”
He grunted while he started to clean the counter in front of me.
“Blue Moon, please.”
He left without saying another word.
And they say customer service is dead.
I picked up my phone and checked the status. No change. Then I put my phone down.
Taking a deep sigh, I looked around the restaurant, trying to at least get some people watching in. There was a family on the other side with two pre-teen boys playing with their food while their mother pretended not to notice and looked it over. A man at the end of the bar in a wrinkled suit pushed cold fries around his plate like they had personally disappointed him.
Nothing to see here. I guess that’s what you get at 9 PM in an airport bar in the middle of nowhere.
“Here you go,” the bartender interrupted, sliding the beer to me.
“That will be $15.75.”
For a beer in Omaha?? I threw my card down and paid.
I had the cold beer in my hand, the cold glass already soothing my growing anger.
I started to take a sip.
“Mind if I sit?” I looked up, and there was a guy in a Cowboys hoodie staring at me. Dark blonde hair, killer smile. Who was I to say no?
“Free country,” I said. Great. I sound like such a tool.
He pulled the seat back and sat down. I could smell his cologne, and his hoodie smelled like he had just bought it minutes ago.
“They have a good beer selection?”
I laughed.
“Not at all. Blue Moon and Bud Light.”
“No Stella?”
“No. Stella’s out too.”
“Gotcha. The struggle is real tonight.”
He rolled up the sleeve of his navy hoodie while waiting. He had an Apple Watch with a black band. His arms looked really strong. He definitely worked out.
I moved my hands under the bar and quickly removed my wedding band.
“Name’s Brendon, btw,” he said as he rolled his arm, offering a handshake.
“Glenn,” I responded, shaking his hand.