The Bearded Man on the Plane

I’m travelling light from Geneva to JFK. Two pieces of cabin luggage. My toiletries in a see-though bag. I’m off to a conference on diversity. The seat I’m allotted is next to the window. The aisle seat is taken by a young woman in an orange sari. The middle seat is still free. The plane is filling up. The young woman in the sari and I exchange smiles. No doubt, she’s also hoping the middle seat remains free.  A stewardess is walking down the aisle counting heads, when a man rushes up, shows his boarding pass, and with a sheepish smile takes the seat between the sari lady and me.

I glance at the man several times, trying to size him up without staring. He’s in his thirties, dark hair, full beard. He buckles his seatbelt and I see his red Swatch. His fingers stroke the watch face. He leans back and sighs. I look away, and he turns his face to me. When I look at him, he turns away. He takes the inflight magazine and reads. When the stewardess hands out earphones for the film, he shakes his head. He closes his eyes.

I close my eyes and feel him move. When I open them he is gone. The sari woman must have let him out. I sit up, crane my neck, watch the man walk down the aisle to the stewardess. He motions her aside. I hold my breath. He enters the lavatory. 

On his seat lies a leather booklet. I flick it open. A white cross on a red background. A bearded face stares at me from the photo. César Berthod; born Fiesch, Valais. Distinguishing feature: hearing impaired. 

I insert my earphones, put back my seat and turn on the inflight entertainment.

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The Woman on the Train

The underground station was packed. There must have been a disruption on the line. We were standing three deep. I stared at the woman in front of me. Her right hand whipped back and forth, almost touching the handbag of a woman in front of her. She must have felt my eyes on her for she turned and frowned at me. But her hand kept on with its back and forth movement. She’s warming up to pounce, I thought. And then she’ll bolt just as the train comes in. I’ll be ready for her. A pickpocket in action. I’ll catch her red-handed.

The woman turned again, still with a frown on her face. The train came in. The woman with the handbag sat in the first seat. The woman with the frown sat down next to her. The woman with the handbag patted the other’s hand. It hadn’t stopped moving.