Her

The most important thing you need to

remember about me: I'm impulsive.

Which, I have to admit, doesn't always

make for the greatest decisions.

The biggest amount of trouble I've gotten

into has to be the time when I worked

as a flight attendant. I had a deranged

couple in the first class who fought

through most of the tiresome long-haul

flight. It escalated without a warning

when he smashed his champagne glass

and pressed it against her throat. Instinct

took over and I was on him in a flash.

I rammed him with my beverage cart

before I attacked him with Chanel No.

I may have saved her life, but I had also

gotten fired.

Granted, not fired in an old fashioned

sense, but in a new, modern way. Which

translates into me being rewarded by

getting a paid leave of absence for a

remaining year of my contract. And an

unspoken promise that there would

never be another contract again.

Devastated that I had to leave my dream

behind, I pulled a Frankie Petrovic

classic. I acted on spur-of-the-moment,

bought a trailer and be the rest of the

year on the road.

I glanced out the window of Mary's Diner

just in time to see four friends stumbling

out of a bar from across the street. They

were laughing, having the time of their

lives. I couldn't remember the last time I

had tumbled out of a bar.

I grabbed a tall glass from the table I sat

at and took a sip of water, wishing the

diner offered wine. Cracking a smile as

an idea occurred to me, I pushed away

my half-empty plate of grilled vegetables

and fries. I waveda waitress over, paid

for my dinner, left a generous tip and

said goodnight.

Walking across the street, I let my hair

down. Thick blonde waves fell on my

shoulders and cascaded down my back.

A few turquoise highlights could be

seen- yet another consequence of my

I-got-fired breakdown. I ran my fingers

through it, trying to tame the lion's mane

look I rocked.

I inspected my clothes critically. Browwn

boots, worn-out jeans, and a form-fitting

green top. Nothing fancy, but my

lucky top would help me pull it off as

a going out outfit. I rarely wore it out

of superstition that its magical powers

wouldn't work if I wore it all the time.

With some difficulty, I pulled the

ridiculously heavy doors of the bar open

and stumbled in. Right at the entrance, I

halted to let my eyes adjust to the dark

and foggy room. The smell of cigarettes

was heavy and the smoke slowly weaved

through the thick air.