07-10-2025, 07:39 PM
1
Damn it. I put the telephone receiver back in its cradle angrily. I would have liked to have taken the phone apart right next to the wall, but the poor thing can't be blamed for the bad news that is transmitted with it. I need to sit down first. Somehow I'm angry and the worst thing is, there's no one I can blame for the dilemma that has arisen. Micha (my best buddy) broke his leg in such a complicated way that he has to stay in the hospital for at least two weeks and even then he will probably be blessed with a thick plaster leg for some time.
All of this would not have been a reason for me to be upset, especially since I felt really sorry for Micha, and it wasn't his fault, but we actually wanted to go on vacation together for two weeks in eight days. We had planned to take his parents' motorhome on a tour around the country. Micha's parents wanted to sell the vehicle at the end of the month, so it would have been a great opportunity for us to use a vehicle like this almost for free. Even the money for the diesel had been given to me by my grandma in a very generous sponsorship. (At this point, it is worth mentioning that I think grandmas are a great invention.) She always says, “Son, you have to see something of the world, you're still young.” Now, at 18, you're certainly still young, and Micha isn't a pensioner at 21 either.
As already mentioned, Micha is my best buddy. I've known him since I was thirteen, and in recent years we've been together almost every day. Micha is okay, but he has one small flaw – he likes girls. Well, maybe that's not exactly a flaw, because even if he were gay like me (oops, did I mention that already?), he would probably still be “just” my best friend. Micha's not bad looking, but somehow he's not really my type. He's more like a big brother to me – just my best friend.
Micha has known for two years that I'm less interested in girls. When I told him in a rather long and very awkward speech, he started laughing out loud. He found the idea of me walking around town with a boy in my arms pretty funny. I think I could live with that reaction. Otherwise, not much has changed between us, except that Micha no longer joins in when others in our group gossip about gays. Apart from Micha, only Marcel knows so far that I like boys, but more about Marcel later.
I lie down on the bed and decide to be in a bad mood, which I manage perfectly. Everything was so well prepared. The last few evenings we had always sat over maps until well into the night, planned routes, provided for provisions and discussed the excursion destinations. And now - all gone.
Even the drama with my boss, to get leave at this time, was quite difficult.
“It's not really usual for first-year apprentices in our company to get vacation outside of the company holidays,” he said, with a face that seemed to be telling me that I had completely used up my bonus for special requests for the near future.
I spent quite a while pondering what to do with the two weeks of vacation. Of course, I could take a tour of our house. Visiting a different room every day would certainly be very interesting. Postponing the vacation again was not an option and the motorhome was gone by then. Somehow I had been really looking forward to the two weeks, but it just wasn't meant to be.
Being in a bad mood does make you hungry, though, and I want to go on a hike to our fridge first. In the hallway, I meet my mother, who can tell from my expression that I am as far from being happy as the songs of the Wildecker Herzbuben are from music. She looked at me with her typical 'tell-me-what's-wrong-look' and I told the whole story, so at least no one would guess about my state of mind.
“That's great Maik (did I already mention that my name is Maik?)then you can help us renovate the guest room.”, she said with a smirk.
She didn't really say 'renovate', did she? Just thinking about that word gives me spots. It's not exactly my hobby. Although I'm not clumsy, I'm always covered in glue from top to bottom when wallpapering, and there's more wallpaper stuck to me than on the wall.
I do like to help my parents when there's something to do (in return I enjoy a very good and species-appropriate “keeping” in this household), but I had imagined my vacation a little differently.
After I have done something for my nutritional needs, I look for the piece of paper on which I wrote the number where I can reach Micha at the hospital. I want to know how he is doing, because I only spoke briefly with his father earlier.
After ringing twice:
“Yes, Schubert here,“ I hear Micha's voice.
”Hey you idiot, you can't be left alone for a minute, you're already doing something stupid. Do you have to be cared for by pretty young nurses right now when I want to go on vacation with you?"
"Hello Maik, if it were up to me, I'd rather be somewhere else now, and the ‘pretty young nurse’ weighs at least 120 kilos, is definitely over 60, and was perhaps pretty at a time when wishing still helped. But there's a free bed next to me, so if you go and break a leg, we can still spend the vacation together.”
We tried to keep each other's spirits up for a while with such or similar constructive suggestions, but I could tell that Micha was just as sad as I was, and he had even more trouble on his hands (or rather on his leg) than I did. I promise to visit him first thing tomorrow. Micha immediately thought of a thousand things he still urgently needed that I could bring. I'm already wondering if I should choose a freight forwarder instead of the tram.
The evening is fairly quiet. I look at our vacation plans again, and the fact that the card is crumpled up and thrown in the trash is certainly not an expression of great joy.
There is not much to report about our visit at Micha's hospital. Maybe just that the nurses put on a very grateful smile when I politely said goodbye. We hadn't taken the term 'bed rest' too seriously. The bed was quiet, but we were less so. Micha's mother always says that people should be warned about us when we two show up somewhere together. We are simply a well-rehearsed team and when we are in a good mood, nothing can spoil it. But probably we wanted to distract ourselves a little with this exuberant mood so as not to think constantly about the messed-up vacation.
When I arrive back home, my mother is already calling out to me:
“It's a shame you're only just getting here. Marcel has only been gone for five minutes. He couldn't wait any longer.”
So now to Marcel, as promised. I have a very special friendship with him.
Marcel is 19 and he lived in the house across the street until he was 12. We spent our childhood together, so to speak, playing together and exploring the world. Since he has been living further away, we only see each other two or three times a year and we don't talk on the phone too often either, but when we do meet up again, everything is just like it used to be. I can talk to Marcel really easily. He never says a word too many, but what he says is always on the same wavelength as me. Sometimes we just have to look at each other to know what the other is thinking. When I told him I was gay, he just shrugged: “So what?” That was the end of the subject as far as he was concerned. He's never one for big words.
Marcel himself has had a girlfriend for half a year. Considering she's a girl, she's actually pretty nice (not that I have anything against girls) and I get along great with her.
I just missed Marcel. He sometimes visits his grandfather, who still lives in our town. He usually calls me beforehand, but this time it was more of a spontaneous thing, as my mother tells me.
“I told Marcel about your messed-up vacation and he had a good idea of how you could use the two weeks. You should call him tonight.”
“What did he say?” I ask curiously.
“Well, you know that Marcel and his girlfriend and another couple booked a last-minute trip to Sri Lanka.”
“Yes, and? What does that have to do with my vacation?”
“Well, his buddy broke up with his girlfriend and now there's a place available.”
Phew, what now? Am I supposed to fly to Sri Lanka with Marcel, his girlfriend and his buddy?
Of course I would like to see palm trees and 30 degrees in the shade, but how much does something like that cost?
I'll have to wait a while before this question can be answered. Marcel will still be sitting in the car for another two hours, so I don't need to call him.
“That would be great, but it's probably a bit too expensive for me,” I say to my mother.
“Don't worry about that, Maik. You've got the money from Grandma, and your birthday's in four weeks. Your father and I will make sure that you don't get on our nerves all day during the two weeks you're here.”
Oh, that sounds like music to my ears, but I don't want to rejoice too soon. First I have to talk to Marcel.
The conversation with him was short and sweet. Marcel makes it clear to me (as always with few words) that there is nothing to think about. “You're on vacation and haven't planned anything yet, so you're coming too!”
So what more can I say? The price of the trip was quite reasonable, even for a trainee like me who always suffered from a chronic lack of money. With the help of my grandma and my parents, there was even some useful pocket money left over. After all, I had also saved up some money for the vacation with Micha.
Marcel tells me that I'll have to share a double room with Felix. But that shouldn't be a problem. I had already seen Felix at Marcel's last birthday party. Somehow I didn't have the best memories of that encounter. Felix was probably already 23 or 24, studying something technical and knowing everything better. If I remember correctly, there was only one person who did everything right and that was him. At the moment, however, I didn't care. I could live with it for two weeks and everything else would make up for this small drawback. So I told Marcel, after a short consultation with my management (read my parents), and he wanted to arrange the rebooking at the travel agency first thing tomorrow.
That evening, I first looked for my old school atlas. I knew roughly where Sri Lanka was, but that was actually about it. I tried to find something worth knowing about the country, but I didn't really succeed.
In bed, I tried to imagine how these two weeks of vacation might go. I saw myself lying on the beach under palm trees and felt the sun shining on my stomach (not only on my stomach, of course). And then, in the middle of these thoughts, I fell asleep.
The next few days pass pretty quickly. I have to see the doctor for any necessary vaccinations, get traveler's checks and plan the contents of my bag. Of course, I also have to keep Micha a little busy and annoy the nurse.
Micha says that he is happy for me, but I think he is not exactly happy about his situation. Understandable. I would much rather share the hotel room with him than with Felix.
Well, not much happened before our departure, and I don't want to bore anyone with the few insignificant events of the last few days before the flight.
We had agreed with Marcel that we would meet at the airport and since that meant a three-hour train ride for me, I decided to take the train earlier. I'm a bit weird in that regard. I didn't want to be left alone at the airport because of a possible train delay.
So there I am, standing at a phone booth in the airport with a bulging travel bag, dutifully reporting my scheduled arrival to my mother. After consuming more of the typically motherly advice and guidelines, I thank her again for her parental support of my plans and end the call with the words “and say hi to grandma.”
So now I could actually start, but before the other three show up here, it will take at least another two hours. I sit down on a bench and do my favorite pastime in such cases. I look for anything male, somehow my age and not exactly like Karl Dall.
Maybe that's not exactly the English way, but somehow I always catch myself looking at a nice boy, seemingly by chance, and of course acting as if I'm just looking in that direction by accident.
Two weeks' vacation. The first long plane trip for me. I'm quite happy and only sometimes is this pleasant feeling replaced by a little restlessness. In this case, I check my hand luggage for the 20th time and make sure that I have my passport, money, checks, etc. – each time I feel a little more reassured that I haven't forgotten anything important. To take my mind off things, I decide to have a snack. It's almost three hours before take-off and it will be a while before they start serving food on the plane.
Against my better judgment, I opt for a not-quite-unknown American fast food chain. The price-performance ratio seems to me to be still quite acceptable here, because in the other restaurants at the airport I would have to pay a small fortune for a few Viennese sausages with potato salad.
The customers are served as usual in several rows in front of the counter, and my eyes first look for the shortest row.
I had already spotted some cute guys in the hall, but in one line there really is a guy who deserves to be called 'especially cute'. He is a bit shorter than me, maybe 17 or 18 years old, has short black hair, a body that (as far as the clothes reveal) has nothing to complain about and, as I recognize when he looks to the side, bright brown eyes. I don't know exactly why, but I find some guys just extremely cute and this one is definitely one of them.
In such cases, I always hope that nobody notices my interested, furtive glances.
While I am still lost in thought, mourning the fact that unfortunately I never meet guys like that, the waitress, who speaks German with a slight accent, wakes me from my dreams.
I order one of the menus on offer and, after a few sure moves by the waitress into the gastronomic food supply, the components of the same end up on my tray.
I look around again, but unfortunately can't see the nice-looking boy anymore. What a shame!
At one table, I start to examine the goods I have ordered. I first open the small cardboard box and I bet you my look looks pretty suspicious.
Among other things, I recognize a salad leaf, a piece of cucumber and some tomato. All in all, it should give the impression that the contents of the package really are something to eat.
While I am eating my meal, I realize that I shouldn't take too much time over it if I want to be at the agreed meeting point on time. So I put my empty tray on the designated shelf and set off with my luggage.
I can see Marcel and his girlfriend Lisa from afar, but I can't see Felix.
“Hi Maik, we thought you changed your mind.“ the two laugh.
”But no way, I'm ready for the island and happy to see you. Where is Felix?“
”He wanted to buy batteries for his camera, but here he comes."
“Hey, it seems we're complete now,” someone says to me from behind, laughing. “I think your name is Maik, right?”
I turn around, a little surprised at the unfamiliar voice, and before I can answer, Marcel says:
“That's right, Maik. Maik, this is Felix.”
I was a bit confused, the boy standing in front of me (or rather, behind me) was somehow not the Felix I remembered from the aforementioned birthday party. Well, I had never asked Marcel whether it was actually this Felix, or a Felix I had not yet met, as it now seemed to be the case. For a moment I must have looked pretty stupid, because the boy standing in front of me was exactly the cute boy I had so indiscreetly admired just 15 minutes ago.
“How was your hamburger, did you like it?“ I ask Felix.
“Well, it was okay.” He replies in astonishment. “Are you psychic, or did I spill half of it on my jacket?” At these words, Felix looks down rather worried.
“Nope, neither, but you were standing in front of me in line earlier.”
“Really? I didn't even notice. Well, I sometimes dream things up,” he apologizes.
“It's nice that you're full for now." Lisa reports, ‘Me and Marcel actually wanted to eat a little something when we checked in. Are you coming again?’
We didn't really feel like that. Felix wanted to go back to the visitors' terrace to take another picture of our plane, and since I was also interested, I offered to accompany him.
Check-in was surprisingly fast. In ten minutes, each of us had got rid of our luggage and received a boarding pass in return. We even got very good seats. Marcel and Lisa are sitting exactly in front of us, just like us (that is, Felix and I), one at the window and the other in the seat next to it.
As discussed, we now separate again. Marcel and Lisa go to satisfy their hunger and Felix and I disappear towards the visitor terraces.
We are lucky, our plane is already at the gate and we can take one or two photos. Felix tells us that he is very interested in civil aviation and can often be found at the airport. In fact, within a few minutes I already know quite a lot about him. He just turned 18, has a younger brother, his father and mother work in a photo lab, and his girlfriend ran off with one of his buddies a few days ago.
I try to provide him with the most important information about yours truly, after all, we are going to be sharing a room for two weeks and it's good to know a few things about the other person. I remember seeing double beds in the rooms in the travel brochure Marcel showed me. So if I have to share a bed with this guy (or should I say “may”), I'll probably always sleep pretty restlessly.
Felix seems really nice and I can't understand the girl who would pass up such a dream boy.
Watching airplanes take off and land is fascinating. As I watch a jumbo take off, I hope that our plane will also bravely outwit the treacherous force of gravity. I'm not afraid of flying, but it is a strange feeling.
40 minutes later, all four of us are already sitting in our seats on the plane. Felix is inspecting the brochures and instructions in the mesh of the backrest in front of him, while Marcel is telling Lisa every conceivable horror story about plane crashes. A stewardess is trying rather unsuccessfully to get the passengers' attention for her safety instructions, and I check my seat belt one more time to make sure it's perfectly fastened.
I enjoy the take-off, which is one of the best parts of flying for me. It is almost dark by now, and since it is slightly cloudy, the last lights that can be seen out the window soon disappear. At this moment, I think of Micha and hope that he will be with me next time.
A little later, the stewardesses start passing out the evening meal. Felix and I opt for the meat dish, Marcel and Lisa for fish.
Everyone will know what I mean: as long as the meal is still neatly packed on the tray, there is plenty of space available, but woe betide you if you have even just freed the cutlery from its packaging, then you need the skill of a magician to manage on the small table without stabbing your neighbor's leg with your fork.
After dinner, we receive a small bottle of sparkling wine, as a nightcap, so to speak. I connect my headphones to the on-board entertainment system and take a look at the accompanying program booklet.
A few more minutes and I close my eyes. I feel really good. With the prospect of two wonderful weeks ahead, sharing a room with a rather cute boy, I fall asleep to the last notes of “Somebody Loves You” (Nik Kershaw).
Damn it. I put the telephone receiver back in its cradle angrily. I would have liked to have taken the phone apart right next to the wall, but the poor thing can't be blamed for the bad news that is transmitted with it. I need to sit down first. Somehow I'm angry and the worst thing is, there's no one I can blame for the dilemma that has arisen. Micha (my best buddy) broke his leg in such a complicated way that he has to stay in the hospital for at least two weeks and even then he will probably be blessed with a thick plaster leg for some time.
All of this would not have been a reason for me to be upset, especially since I felt really sorry for Micha, and it wasn't his fault, but we actually wanted to go on vacation together for two weeks in eight days. We had planned to take his parents' motorhome on a tour around the country. Micha's parents wanted to sell the vehicle at the end of the month, so it would have been a great opportunity for us to use a vehicle like this almost for free. Even the money for the diesel had been given to me by my grandma in a very generous sponsorship. (At this point, it is worth mentioning that I think grandmas are a great invention.) She always says, “Son, you have to see something of the world, you're still young.” Now, at 18, you're certainly still young, and Micha isn't a pensioner at 21 either.
As already mentioned, Micha is my best buddy. I've known him since I was thirteen, and in recent years we've been together almost every day. Micha is okay, but he has one small flaw – he likes girls. Well, maybe that's not exactly a flaw, because even if he were gay like me (oops, did I mention that already?), he would probably still be “just” my best friend. Micha's not bad looking, but somehow he's not really my type. He's more like a big brother to me – just my best friend.
Micha has known for two years that I'm less interested in girls. When I told him in a rather long and very awkward speech, he started laughing out loud. He found the idea of me walking around town with a boy in my arms pretty funny. I think I could live with that reaction. Otherwise, not much has changed between us, except that Micha no longer joins in when others in our group gossip about gays. Apart from Micha, only Marcel knows so far that I like boys, but more about Marcel later.
I lie down on the bed and decide to be in a bad mood, which I manage perfectly. Everything was so well prepared. The last few evenings we had always sat over maps until well into the night, planned routes, provided for provisions and discussed the excursion destinations. And now - all gone.
Even the drama with my boss, to get leave at this time, was quite difficult.
“It's not really usual for first-year apprentices in our company to get vacation outside of the company holidays,” he said, with a face that seemed to be telling me that I had completely used up my bonus for special requests for the near future.
I spent quite a while pondering what to do with the two weeks of vacation. Of course, I could take a tour of our house. Visiting a different room every day would certainly be very interesting. Postponing the vacation again was not an option and the motorhome was gone by then. Somehow I had been really looking forward to the two weeks, but it just wasn't meant to be.
Being in a bad mood does make you hungry, though, and I want to go on a hike to our fridge first. In the hallway, I meet my mother, who can tell from my expression that I am as far from being happy as the songs of the Wildecker Herzbuben are from music. She looked at me with her typical 'tell-me-what's-wrong-look' and I told the whole story, so at least no one would guess about my state of mind.
“That's great Maik (did I already mention that my name is Maik?)then you can help us renovate the guest room.”, she said with a smirk.
She didn't really say 'renovate', did she? Just thinking about that word gives me spots. It's not exactly my hobby. Although I'm not clumsy, I'm always covered in glue from top to bottom when wallpapering, and there's more wallpaper stuck to me than on the wall.
I do like to help my parents when there's something to do (in return I enjoy a very good and species-appropriate “keeping” in this household), but I had imagined my vacation a little differently.
After I have done something for my nutritional needs, I look for the piece of paper on which I wrote the number where I can reach Micha at the hospital. I want to know how he is doing, because I only spoke briefly with his father earlier.
After ringing twice:
“Yes, Schubert here,“ I hear Micha's voice.
”Hey you idiot, you can't be left alone for a minute, you're already doing something stupid. Do you have to be cared for by pretty young nurses right now when I want to go on vacation with you?"
"Hello Maik, if it were up to me, I'd rather be somewhere else now, and the ‘pretty young nurse’ weighs at least 120 kilos, is definitely over 60, and was perhaps pretty at a time when wishing still helped. But there's a free bed next to me, so if you go and break a leg, we can still spend the vacation together.”
We tried to keep each other's spirits up for a while with such or similar constructive suggestions, but I could tell that Micha was just as sad as I was, and he had even more trouble on his hands (or rather on his leg) than I did. I promise to visit him first thing tomorrow. Micha immediately thought of a thousand things he still urgently needed that I could bring. I'm already wondering if I should choose a freight forwarder instead of the tram.
The evening is fairly quiet. I look at our vacation plans again, and the fact that the card is crumpled up and thrown in the trash is certainly not an expression of great joy.
There is not much to report about our visit at Micha's hospital. Maybe just that the nurses put on a very grateful smile when I politely said goodbye. We hadn't taken the term 'bed rest' too seriously. The bed was quiet, but we were less so. Micha's mother always says that people should be warned about us when we two show up somewhere together. We are simply a well-rehearsed team and when we are in a good mood, nothing can spoil it. But probably we wanted to distract ourselves a little with this exuberant mood so as not to think constantly about the messed-up vacation.
When I arrive back home, my mother is already calling out to me:
“It's a shame you're only just getting here. Marcel has only been gone for five minutes. He couldn't wait any longer.”
So now to Marcel, as promised. I have a very special friendship with him.
Marcel is 19 and he lived in the house across the street until he was 12. We spent our childhood together, so to speak, playing together and exploring the world. Since he has been living further away, we only see each other two or three times a year and we don't talk on the phone too often either, but when we do meet up again, everything is just like it used to be. I can talk to Marcel really easily. He never says a word too many, but what he says is always on the same wavelength as me. Sometimes we just have to look at each other to know what the other is thinking. When I told him I was gay, he just shrugged: “So what?” That was the end of the subject as far as he was concerned. He's never one for big words.
Marcel himself has had a girlfriend for half a year. Considering she's a girl, she's actually pretty nice (not that I have anything against girls) and I get along great with her.
I just missed Marcel. He sometimes visits his grandfather, who still lives in our town. He usually calls me beforehand, but this time it was more of a spontaneous thing, as my mother tells me.
“I told Marcel about your messed-up vacation and he had a good idea of how you could use the two weeks. You should call him tonight.”
“What did he say?” I ask curiously.
“Well, you know that Marcel and his girlfriend and another couple booked a last-minute trip to Sri Lanka.”
“Yes, and? What does that have to do with my vacation?”
“Well, his buddy broke up with his girlfriend and now there's a place available.”
Phew, what now? Am I supposed to fly to Sri Lanka with Marcel, his girlfriend and his buddy?
Of course I would like to see palm trees and 30 degrees in the shade, but how much does something like that cost?
I'll have to wait a while before this question can be answered. Marcel will still be sitting in the car for another two hours, so I don't need to call him.
“That would be great, but it's probably a bit too expensive for me,” I say to my mother.
“Don't worry about that, Maik. You've got the money from Grandma, and your birthday's in four weeks. Your father and I will make sure that you don't get on our nerves all day during the two weeks you're here.”
Oh, that sounds like music to my ears, but I don't want to rejoice too soon. First I have to talk to Marcel.
The conversation with him was short and sweet. Marcel makes it clear to me (as always with few words) that there is nothing to think about. “You're on vacation and haven't planned anything yet, so you're coming too!”
So what more can I say? The price of the trip was quite reasonable, even for a trainee like me who always suffered from a chronic lack of money. With the help of my grandma and my parents, there was even some useful pocket money left over. After all, I had also saved up some money for the vacation with Micha.
Marcel tells me that I'll have to share a double room with Felix. But that shouldn't be a problem. I had already seen Felix at Marcel's last birthday party. Somehow I didn't have the best memories of that encounter. Felix was probably already 23 or 24, studying something technical and knowing everything better. If I remember correctly, there was only one person who did everything right and that was him. At the moment, however, I didn't care. I could live with it for two weeks and everything else would make up for this small drawback. So I told Marcel, after a short consultation with my management (read my parents), and he wanted to arrange the rebooking at the travel agency first thing tomorrow.
That evening, I first looked for my old school atlas. I knew roughly where Sri Lanka was, but that was actually about it. I tried to find something worth knowing about the country, but I didn't really succeed.
In bed, I tried to imagine how these two weeks of vacation might go. I saw myself lying on the beach under palm trees and felt the sun shining on my stomach (not only on my stomach, of course). And then, in the middle of these thoughts, I fell asleep.
The next few days pass pretty quickly. I have to see the doctor for any necessary vaccinations, get traveler's checks and plan the contents of my bag. Of course, I also have to keep Micha a little busy and annoy the nurse.
Micha says that he is happy for me, but I think he is not exactly happy about his situation. Understandable. I would much rather share the hotel room with him than with Felix.
Well, not much happened before our departure, and I don't want to bore anyone with the few insignificant events of the last few days before the flight.
We had agreed with Marcel that we would meet at the airport and since that meant a three-hour train ride for me, I decided to take the train earlier. I'm a bit weird in that regard. I didn't want to be left alone at the airport because of a possible train delay.
So there I am, standing at a phone booth in the airport with a bulging travel bag, dutifully reporting my scheduled arrival to my mother. After consuming more of the typically motherly advice and guidelines, I thank her again for her parental support of my plans and end the call with the words “and say hi to grandma.”
So now I could actually start, but before the other three show up here, it will take at least another two hours. I sit down on a bench and do my favorite pastime in such cases. I look for anything male, somehow my age and not exactly like Karl Dall.
Maybe that's not exactly the English way, but somehow I always catch myself looking at a nice boy, seemingly by chance, and of course acting as if I'm just looking in that direction by accident.
Two weeks' vacation. The first long plane trip for me. I'm quite happy and only sometimes is this pleasant feeling replaced by a little restlessness. In this case, I check my hand luggage for the 20th time and make sure that I have my passport, money, checks, etc. – each time I feel a little more reassured that I haven't forgotten anything important. To take my mind off things, I decide to have a snack. It's almost three hours before take-off and it will be a while before they start serving food on the plane.
Against my better judgment, I opt for a not-quite-unknown American fast food chain. The price-performance ratio seems to me to be still quite acceptable here, because in the other restaurants at the airport I would have to pay a small fortune for a few Viennese sausages with potato salad.
The customers are served as usual in several rows in front of the counter, and my eyes first look for the shortest row.
I had already spotted some cute guys in the hall, but in one line there really is a guy who deserves to be called 'especially cute'. He is a bit shorter than me, maybe 17 or 18 years old, has short black hair, a body that (as far as the clothes reveal) has nothing to complain about and, as I recognize when he looks to the side, bright brown eyes. I don't know exactly why, but I find some guys just extremely cute and this one is definitely one of them.
In such cases, I always hope that nobody notices my interested, furtive glances.
While I am still lost in thought, mourning the fact that unfortunately I never meet guys like that, the waitress, who speaks German with a slight accent, wakes me from my dreams.
I order one of the menus on offer and, after a few sure moves by the waitress into the gastronomic food supply, the components of the same end up on my tray.
I look around again, but unfortunately can't see the nice-looking boy anymore. What a shame!
At one table, I start to examine the goods I have ordered. I first open the small cardboard box and I bet you my look looks pretty suspicious.
Among other things, I recognize a salad leaf, a piece of cucumber and some tomato. All in all, it should give the impression that the contents of the package really are something to eat.
While I am eating my meal, I realize that I shouldn't take too much time over it if I want to be at the agreed meeting point on time. So I put my empty tray on the designated shelf and set off with my luggage.
I can see Marcel and his girlfriend Lisa from afar, but I can't see Felix.
“Hi Maik, we thought you changed your mind.“ the two laugh.
”But no way, I'm ready for the island and happy to see you. Where is Felix?“
”He wanted to buy batteries for his camera, but here he comes."
“Hey, it seems we're complete now,” someone says to me from behind, laughing. “I think your name is Maik, right?”
I turn around, a little surprised at the unfamiliar voice, and before I can answer, Marcel says:
“That's right, Maik. Maik, this is Felix.”
I was a bit confused, the boy standing in front of me (or rather, behind me) was somehow not the Felix I remembered from the aforementioned birthday party. Well, I had never asked Marcel whether it was actually this Felix, or a Felix I had not yet met, as it now seemed to be the case. For a moment I must have looked pretty stupid, because the boy standing in front of me was exactly the cute boy I had so indiscreetly admired just 15 minutes ago.
“How was your hamburger, did you like it?“ I ask Felix.
“Well, it was okay.” He replies in astonishment. “Are you psychic, or did I spill half of it on my jacket?” At these words, Felix looks down rather worried.
“Nope, neither, but you were standing in front of me in line earlier.”
“Really? I didn't even notice. Well, I sometimes dream things up,” he apologizes.
“It's nice that you're full for now." Lisa reports, ‘Me and Marcel actually wanted to eat a little something when we checked in. Are you coming again?’
We didn't really feel like that. Felix wanted to go back to the visitors' terrace to take another picture of our plane, and since I was also interested, I offered to accompany him.
Check-in was surprisingly fast. In ten minutes, each of us had got rid of our luggage and received a boarding pass in return. We even got very good seats. Marcel and Lisa are sitting exactly in front of us, just like us (that is, Felix and I), one at the window and the other in the seat next to it.
As discussed, we now separate again. Marcel and Lisa go to satisfy their hunger and Felix and I disappear towards the visitor terraces.
We are lucky, our plane is already at the gate and we can take one or two photos. Felix tells us that he is very interested in civil aviation and can often be found at the airport. In fact, within a few minutes I already know quite a lot about him. He just turned 18, has a younger brother, his father and mother work in a photo lab, and his girlfriend ran off with one of his buddies a few days ago.
I try to provide him with the most important information about yours truly, after all, we are going to be sharing a room for two weeks and it's good to know a few things about the other person. I remember seeing double beds in the rooms in the travel brochure Marcel showed me. So if I have to share a bed with this guy (or should I say “may”), I'll probably always sleep pretty restlessly.
Felix seems really nice and I can't understand the girl who would pass up such a dream boy.
Watching airplanes take off and land is fascinating. As I watch a jumbo take off, I hope that our plane will also bravely outwit the treacherous force of gravity. I'm not afraid of flying, but it is a strange feeling.
40 minutes later, all four of us are already sitting in our seats on the plane. Felix is inspecting the brochures and instructions in the mesh of the backrest in front of him, while Marcel is telling Lisa every conceivable horror story about plane crashes. A stewardess is trying rather unsuccessfully to get the passengers' attention for her safety instructions, and I check my seat belt one more time to make sure it's perfectly fastened.
I enjoy the take-off, which is one of the best parts of flying for me. It is almost dark by now, and since it is slightly cloudy, the last lights that can be seen out the window soon disappear. At this moment, I think of Micha and hope that he will be with me next time.
A little later, the stewardesses start passing out the evening meal. Felix and I opt for the meat dish, Marcel and Lisa for fish.
Everyone will know what I mean: as long as the meal is still neatly packed on the tray, there is plenty of space available, but woe betide you if you have even just freed the cutlery from its packaging, then you need the skill of a magician to manage on the small table without stabbing your neighbor's leg with your fork.
After dinner, we receive a small bottle of sparkling wine, as a nightcap, so to speak. I connect my headphones to the on-board entertainment system and take a look at the accompanying program booklet.
A few more minutes and I close my eyes. I feel really good. With the prospect of two wonderful weeks ahead, sharing a room with a rather cute boy, I fall asleep to the last notes of “Somebody Loves You” (Nik Kershaw).