07-11-2025, 03:23 PM
So'n Mist. Angry, I put the phone receiver back in its place. I would have preferred to smash the phone against the next wall, but the poor thing can't help the bad news it transmits. I need to sit down first. Somehow I'm angry, and the worst part is, there's not even anyone I can blame for the dilemma that has occurred. Micha (my best buddy) broke his leg, and in such a complicated way that he has to stay in the hospital for at least two weeks, and even then, he'll probably be blessed with a thick cast for some time.
All of this in itself wouldn't be a reason for me to be angry, especially since I really feel sorry for Micha, and he can't help it, but we were actually supposed to go on vacation together in eight days for two weeks. It was planned that we would take a tour of the country with his parents' camper van. 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 such a vehicle almost for free. Even the money for diesel was generously gifted to me by my grandma in a sponsorship action. (At this point, I must say that I think grandmas are a great invention.) She always says, "Boy, you need to see something of the world; you're still young." Well, at 18, one is certainly still young, and Micha at 21 is still no retiree.
As mentioned, Micha is my best buddy. I've known him since I was thirteen, and for the last few years, we've been together almost daily. Micha is quite okay, but he has one little flaw - he likes girls. Well, maybe that's not really a flaw, because even if he were gay like me (oops, did I mention that?), he would probably still just be my best friend. Micha doesn't look bad, but he's somehow not 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 confessed to him in a pretty long and complicated speech, he first started laughing loudly. He found the idea of me walking through the city with a boy in my arms quite funny. I think I could live well with that reaction. Other than that, not much has changed between us, just that Micha no longer joins in when others in our clique make fun of gay people. Besides Micha, only Marcel knows that I'm into boys, but more on Marcel later.
I lie down on the bed and decide to be in a bad mood, which I manage quite well. Everything was so well prepared. The last few evenings, we had been sitting over maps until late at night, planning routes, organizing supplies, and discussing destinations. And now - everything's gone. The drama with my boss about getting vacation time at just this moment was pretty difficult. "It's not common for trainees in their first year in our company to get vacation outside of company holidays," he said with a face that seemed to say I had completely exhausted my bonus of special requests for the foreseeable future.
I ponder for a while what to do with the two weeks of vacation now. Of course, I could take a tour around our house. Visiting a different room every day would certainly be very interesting. Postponing the vacation wasn't an option, and the camper van would be gone then too. I had been really looking forward to the two weeks, but it seems that's not meant to be.
A little bit of being in a bad mood makes me hungry, and I want to set off on a trek to our refrigerator. In the hallway, I run into my mother, and she immediately recognizes from my expression that I am as far from 'being happy' at the moment as the songs of the Wildecker Herzbuben are from music. She looked at me with her typical 'tell-me-right-away-what's-wrong' look, and I told her the whole story to avoid any guessing about my mood.
"That's great, Maik (Have I mentioned that my name is Maik?), then you can help us renovate the guest room," she said with a smile.
She didn't really say 'renovate,' did she? Just the thought of that word gives me hives. It's not exactly my hobby. Although I'm not clumsy, when it comes to wallpapering, I'm always covered in glue from head to toe, and more wallpaper sticks to me than to the wall. I do enjoy helping my parents when there's something to do (for that, I enjoy a very good and appropriate "treatment" in this household), but I had envisioned my vacation a bit differently.
After I've taken care of my hunger, I look for the note on which I wrote the number to reach Micha in the hospital. I want to know how he's doing, as I only spoke briefly with his father earlier.
After two rings:
"Yes, Schubert here," I hear Micha's voice.
"Hey you goofball, you can't be left alone for a minute without causing trouble. Do you have to be taken care of by young, pretty nurses just when I want to go on vacation with you?"
"Hello Maik, if it were up to me, I would rather be lying somewhere else right now, and the 'pretty young nurse' weighs at least 120 kilos, is probably already 60, and might have been pretty at one time when wishing still helped. However, there is still a bed free next to me, so if you quickly break a leg, we can still spend the vacation together."
We tried to keep each other entertained for a while with such or similarly constructive suggestions, but I could already 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 promised to visit him tomorrow, and Micha immediately thought of a thousand things he urgently needed that I could bring. I was already considering whether I should choose a freight company instead of the tram.
The evening went quite calmly. I looked over our vacation plans again, and the fact that the crumpled map ended up in the trash can was certainly not an expression of great joy.
There isn’t much to report about the visit to Micha in the 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 indeed quiet, but we were less so. Micha's mother always says that the press and radio should warn people when the two of us show up somewhere together. We are simply a well-rehearsed team, and when we're in a good mood, nothing can spoil it for us. We probably wanted to distract ourselves with this lively atmosphere so we wouldn't constantly think about the botched vacation.
When I got home, my mother called out to me:
"Too bad you’re just now coming back. Marcel just left five minutes ago. He couldn’t wait any longer."
So now, as promised, to Marcel. I share a very special friendship with him. Marcel is 19 and lived across the street until he was 12. We basically spent our childhood together, played together, and explored the world. Since he moved further away, we only see each other two or three times a year, and we don’t talk on the phone that often either, but still, when we meet again, everything is like it used to be. I can talk to Marcel really well. He never says a word too much, but what he does say is just on my wavelength. Sometimes we only have to look at each other and we know what the other is thinking. When I told him I was gay, he just shrugged: "So what?" and that was the end of the topic for him. He never makes a big deal out of anything. Marcel himself has had a steady girlfriend for half a year. For a girl, she’s actually quite 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. Usually, he calls me beforehand, but this time it was more of a spontaneous action, as my mother told me.
"I told Marcel about your botched 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 asked curiously.
"Well, you know that Marcel booked a last-minute trip to Sri Lanka with his girlfriend and another couple."
"Yeah, and? What does that have to do with my vacation?"
"Well, his buddy broke up with his girlfriend, so there’s still a spot free."
Phew, what now? Am I supposed to fly to Sri Lanka with Marcel, his girlfriend, and his buddy? Of course, I would love to have palm trees and 30 degrees in the shade, but how much does that cost? I have to wait a while before this question can be clarified. Marcel is probably still sitting in the car, and I shouldn’t call him for another two hours.
"That would be great, but it’s probably going to be a bit too expensive for me," I said to my mother.
"Don’t worry about it, Maik. You have the money from Grandma, and besides, you have a birthday in four weeks. Your father and I will make sure you don’t drive us crazy here for two weeks."
Oh, that sounds like music to my ears, but I don't want to get too excited too soon. First, I need to talk to Marcel.
The conversation with him was short and to the point. Marcel made it clear to me (as always with few words) that there was really nothing to think about. "You have vacation and nothing planned, so you're coming along!" So what else could I say? The travel price was quite reasonable, even for an apprentice like me who always suffers from chronic financial shortage, and with the help of Grandma and my parents, there was even some decent pocket money left. After all, I had saved something for the vacation with Micha.
Marcel tells me that I have to share a double room with Felix. Well, that shouldn't be a problem. I had seen Felix once 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 knew everything better. If I remember correctly, there was only one person who did everything right, and that was himself. At the moment, I didn't care. I can manage for two weeks, and everything else will probably make up for this little flaw. So I tell Marcel, after a brief consultation with my management (meaning my parents), that I'm in, and he wanted to arrange the rebooking at the travel agency tomorrow.
In the evening, I first look for my old school atlas. I know roughly where Sri Lanka is, but that's about it. I try to find something informative about the country, but I can't quite manage it. In bed, I try to imagine how these two weeks of vacation might go; I see myself lying on the beach under palm trees and feel the sun shining on my belly (of course, not just on my belly), and at some point, in the middle of these thoughts, I fall asleep.
The next few days go by pretty quickly. I have to go to the family doctor for any necessary vaccinations, get traveler's checks, and plan the contents of my travel bag. Of course, I also have to keep Micha from getting bored a bit and annoy the station nurse. Micha says he's happy for me, but I think he's not exactly thrilled about his situation. Understandable. I would much rather share the hotel room with him than with this Felix.
Well, not much happened until departure, and I don't want to bore anyone with the few insignificant events of the last days before the flight. We agreed with Marcel that we would meet at the airport, and since that means a 3-hour train ride for me, I decided to take an earlier train. In this regard, I am a bit peculiar. I didn't want to be left alone at the airport due to a possible train delay.
So here I am now with a fully packed travel bag at a phone booth in the airport, dutifully informing my mother of my scheduled arrival. After consuming the typical motherly worried advice and guidelines once again, I thank her nicely for the parental support of my plans and end the conversation with the words, "And say hi to Grandma for me."
So now it could actually start, but before the other three show up, it will probably take another two hours. I sit down on a bench and indulge in my favorite activity in such cases. I look for anything male, roughly my age, and not looking like Karl Dall. Maybe that's not exactly the polite English way, but somehow I always catch myself pretending to look casually in the direction of a nice boy.
Two weeks of vacation. The first long flight for me. I'm pretty happy, and only sometimes does this beautiful feeling get overshadowed by a bit of restlessness. In such cases, I check my hand luggage for at least the 20th time to make sure I have my passport, money, checks, etc. - each time reassured that I probably haven't forgotten anything important. To distract myself a bit, I want to grab a little something to eat. There are still almost three hours until departure, and it will take a while on the plane before there's food.
I decide, against my habits, to go for a not entirely unknown American fast-food chain. The price-performance ratio seems quite reasonable here, as I would have to invest a small fortune in the other places at the airport just for a few sausages with potato salad. The customer service proceeds as usual in several lines at the counter, and I first look for the shortest line.
Already in the hall, I had seen some nice guys, but in one line, there is really a guy who deserves the title 'particularly 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 clothing allows me to see) has nothing to complain about, and as I notice when he glances to the side, he has brown, bright eyes. I don't know exactly why, but I just find some boys extremely adorable, and he definitely belongs to that category.
In such cases, I always hope that no one notices my interested, furtive glances. While I am still lost in thought, a bit saddened that I never get to know such types, the not quite accent-free German-speaking waitress wakes me from my dreams. I order one of the offered menus, and after a few precise grabs by the waitress, the components of it land on my tray.
I look around again but unfortunately can no longer see the nice-looking boy. Too bad! At a table, I begin to examine the items I ordered. I first open the small cardboard box and bet that my expression looks quite suspicious while doing so.
I recognize among other things a lettuce leaf, a piece of cucumber, and some tomato. All in all, it is supposed to give the impression that the contents of the package really are something to eat.
While I eat my meal, I realize that I shouldn’t take too much time if I want to be on time at the agreed meeting point. So, I take my empty tray to the designated shelf and make my way with my luggage. I can already spot Marcel and his girlfriend Lisa from afar, but Felix is nowhere to be seen.
"Hi Maik, we thought you changed your mind," the two laugh.
"Not at all, I'm ready for the island and I'm looking forward to seeing you. Where's Felix?"
"He wanted to buy batteries for his camera, but here he comes."
"Hey, looks like we're all here," someone laughs from behind me. "I guess you're Maik, right?"
I turn around somewhat surprised at the unfamiliar voice, and before I can respond, Marcel says:
"That's Maik. Maik, this is Felix."
I was a bit confused; the boy standing in front of me (or rather, until then behind me) somehow didn’t match the Felix I remembered from that birthday party. Well, I had never asked Marcel if it was actually this Felix or one I didn’t know yet, as it seemed to be the case now. For a moment, I must have looked quite silly, because the boy standing in front of me was exactly the cute guy I had discreetly admired just 15 minutes ago.
"How was your hamburger earlier, did you like it?" I ask Felix.
"Well, it was okay," he replies, surprised. "Are you a clairvoyant, or did I spill half of it on my jacket?" At these words, Felix looks down at himself quite worriedly.
"No, neither, but you were in front of me in line earlier."
"Really? I didn't notice. Well, I sometimes zone out," he apologizes.
"It’s nice that YOU are full for now," Lisa chimes in. "Marcel and I actually wanted to grab a little something to eat after we check in. Are you coming with us?"
We were less inclined to do that. Felix wanted to head to the observation deck to possibly take a picture of our airplane, and since I was interested in that too, I offered to join him. The check-in process went surprisingly quickly. In ten minutes, each of us had checked in our luggage and received a boarding pass in exchange. We even got very good seats. Marcel and Lisa are sitting right in front of us, just like us (that is, Felix and I), one by the window and the other in the seat next to it.
As discussed, we separate again for a while. Marcel and Lisa go to satisfy their hunger, and Felix and I head towards the observation deck. We are lucky; our airplane is already at the gate, and we can take one or two photos. Felix tells me that he is very interested in civil aviation and is often found at the airport. In fact, within a few minutes, I already know quite a bit 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 share the most important details about myself as well, since we will be sharing a room for two weeks, and it’s good to know a bit about each other. I remember seeing double beds in the travel brochure that Marcel showed me. So, if I have to (or rather, get to) share a bed with this boy, I will probably sleep quite restlessly. Felix seems really nice, and I can’t understand the girl who lets such a dream boy slip away.
Watching airplanes take off and land is fascinating. As I watch a jumbo jet take off, I hope that our plane will bravely defy the treacherous force of gravity. I’m not afraid of flying, but it does feel a bit strange.
Forty minutes later, all four of us are already seated on the plane. Felix is inspecting the brochures and instructions in the seatback pocket in front of him, while Marcel is telling Lisa every conceivable horror story about plane crashes. A flight attendant is trying, unsuccessfully, to get the passengers’ attention for her safety instructions, and I check my seatbelt for a perfect fit.
I enjoy the takeoff, which is one of my favorite moments of flying. By now, it has almost become dark, and since it’s slightly cloudy, the last lights visible from the window soon disappear. At this moment, I think of Micha and hope that he will be part of the next trip.
A little later, the flight attendants begin distributing dinner. Felix and I decide on sliced meat, while Marcel and Lisa choose fish. Everyone knows that as long as the meal is neatly packaged on the tray, there is plenty of room available, but woe betide you if you have even just freed the cutlery from its packaging; then it takes the skill of a magician to manage on the small table without jabbing your neighbor with the fork.
After the meal, we receive a small bottle of sparkling wine, so to speak, as a sleep drink. I connect my headphones to the onboard entertainment system and take a look at the accompanying program booklet. Just a few more minutes and I close my eyes. I feel really comfortable. With the prospect of two beautiful weeks during which I will share a room with a pretty sweet boy, I fall asleep to the last notes of "somebody loves you" (Nik Kershaw).
All of this in itself wouldn't be a reason for me to be angry, especially since I really feel sorry for Micha, and he can't help it, but we were actually supposed to go on vacation together in eight days for two weeks. It was planned that we would take a tour of the country with his parents' camper van. 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 such a vehicle almost for free. Even the money for diesel was generously gifted to me by my grandma in a sponsorship action. (At this point, I must say that I think grandmas are a great invention.) She always says, "Boy, you need to see something of the world; you're still young." Well, at 18, one is certainly still young, and Micha at 21 is still no retiree.
As mentioned, Micha is my best buddy. I've known him since I was thirteen, and for the last few years, we've been together almost daily. Micha is quite okay, but he has one little flaw - he likes girls. Well, maybe that's not really a flaw, because even if he were gay like me (oops, did I mention that?), he would probably still just be my best friend. Micha doesn't look bad, but he's somehow not 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 confessed to him in a pretty long and complicated speech, he first started laughing loudly. He found the idea of me walking through the city with a boy in my arms quite funny. I think I could live well with that reaction. Other than that, not much has changed between us, just that Micha no longer joins in when others in our clique make fun of gay people. Besides Micha, only Marcel knows that I'm into boys, but more on Marcel later.
I lie down on the bed and decide to be in a bad mood, which I manage quite well. Everything was so well prepared. The last few evenings, we had been sitting over maps until late at night, planning routes, organizing supplies, and discussing destinations. And now - everything's gone. The drama with my boss about getting vacation time at just this moment was pretty difficult. "It's not common for trainees in their first year in our company to get vacation outside of company holidays," he said with a face that seemed to say I had completely exhausted my bonus of special requests for the foreseeable future.
I ponder for a while what to do with the two weeks of vacation now. Of course, I could take a tour around our house. Visiting a different room every day would certainly be very interesting. Postponing the vacation wasn't an option, and the camper van would be gone then too. I had been really looking forward to the two weeks, but it seems that's not meant to be.
A little bit of being in a bad mood makes me hungry, and I want to set off on a trek to our refrigerator. In the hallway, I run into my mother, and she immediately recognizes from my expression that I am as far from 'being happy' at the moment as the songs of the Wildecker Herzbuben are from music. She looked at me with her typical 'tell-me-right-away-what's-wrong' look, and I told her the whole story to avoid any guessing about my mood.
"That's great, Maik (Have I mentioned that my name is Maik?), then you can help us renovate the guest room," she said with a smile.
She didn't really say 'renovate,' did she? Just the thought of that word gives me hives. It's not exactly my hobby. Although I'm not clumsy, when it comes to wallpapering, I'm always covered in glue from head to toe, and more wallpaper sticks to me than to the wall. I do enjoy helping my parents when there's something to do (for that, I enjoy a very good and appropriate "treatment" in this household), but I had envisioned my vacation a bit differently.
After I've taken care of my hunger, I look for the note on which I wrote the number to reach Micha in the hospital. I want to know how he's doing, as I only spoke briefly with his father earlier.
After two rings:
"Yes, Schubert here," I hear Micha's voice.
"Hey you goofball, you can't be left alone for a minute without causing trouble. Do you have to be taken care of by young, pretty nurses just when I want to go on vacation with you?"
"Hello Maik, if it were up to me, I would rather be lying somewhere else right now, and the 'pretty young nurse' weighs at least 120 kilos, is probably already 60, and might have been pretty at one time when wishing still helped. However, there is still a bed free next to me, so if you quickly break a leg, we can still spend the vacation together."
We tried to keep each other entertained for a while with such or similarly constructive suggestions, but I could already 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 promised to visit him tomorrow, and Micha immediately thought of a thousand things he urgently needed that I could bring. I was already considering whether I should choose a freight company instead of the tram.
The evening went quite calmly. I looked over our vacation plans again, and the fact that the crumpled map ended up in the trash can was certainly not an expression of great joy.
There isn’t much to report about the visit to Micha in the 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 indeed quiet, but we were less so. Micha's mother always says that the press and radio should warn people when the two of us show up somewhere together. We are simply a well-rehearsed team, and when we're in a good mood, nothing can spoil it for us. We probably wanted to distract ourselves with this lively atmosphere so we wouldn't constantly think about the botched vacation.
When I got home, my mother called out to me:
"Too bad you’re just now coming back. Marcel just left five minutes ago. He couldn’t wait any longer."
So now, as promised, to Marcel. I share a very special friendship with him. Marcel is 19 and lived across the street until he was 12. We basically spent our childhood together, played together, and explored the world. Since he moved further away, we only see each other two or three times a year, and we don’t talk on the phone that often either, but still, when we meet again, everything is like it used to be. I can talk to Marcel really well. He never says a word too much, but what he does say is just on my wavelength. Sometimes we only have to look at each other and we know what the other is thinking. When I told him I was gay, he just shrugged: "So what?" and that was the end of the topic for him. He never makes a big deal out of anything. Marcel himself has had a steady girlfriend for half a year. For a girl, she’s actually quite 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. Usually, he calls me beforehand, but this time it was more of a spontaneous action, as my mother told me.
"I told Marcel about your botched 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 asked curiously.
"Well, you know that Marcel booked a last-minute trip to Sri Lanka with his girlfriend and another couple."
"Yeah, and? What does that have to do with my vacation?"
"Well, his buddy broke up with his girlfriend, so there’s still a spot free."
Phew, what now? Am I supposed to fly to Sri Lanka with Marcel, his girlfriend, and his buddy? Of course, I would love to have palm trees and 30 degrees in the shade, but how much does that cost? I have to wait a while before this question can be clarified. Marcel is probably still sitting in the car, and I shouldn’t call him for another two hours.
"That would be great, but it’s probably going to be a bit too expensive for me," I said to my mother.
"Don’t worry about it, Maik. You have the money from Grandma, and besides, you have a birthday in four weeks. Your father and I will make sure you don’t drive us crazy here for two weeks."
Oh, that sounds like music to my ears, but I don't want to get too excited too soon. First, I need to talk to Marcel.
The conversation with him was short and to the point. Marcel made it clear to me (as always with few words) that there was really nothing to think about. "You have vacation and nothing planned, so you're coming along!" So what else could I say? The travel price was quite reasonable, even for an apprentice like me who always suffers from chronic financial shortage, and with the help of Grandma and my parents, there was even some decent pocket money left. After all, I had saved something for the vacation with Micha.
Marcel tells me that I have to share a double room with Felix. Well, that shouldn't be a problem. I had seen Felix once 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 knew everything better. If I remember correctly, there was only one person who did everything right, and that was himself. At the moment, I didn't care. I can manage for two weeks, and everything else will probably make up for this little flaw. So I tell Marcel, after a brief consultation with my management (meaning my parents), that I'm in, and he wanted to arrange the rebooking at the travel agency tomorrow.
In the evening, I first look for my old school atlas. I know roughly where Sri Lanka is, but that's about it. I try to find something informative about the country, but I can't quite manage it. In bed, I try to imagine how these two weeks of vacation might go; I see myself lying on the beach under palm trees and feel the sun shining on my belly (of course, not just on my belly), and at some point, in the middle of these thoughts, I fall asleep.
The next few days go by pretty quickly. I have to go to the family doctor for any necessary vaccinations, get traveler's checks, and plan the contents of my travel bag. Of course, I also have to keep Micha from getting bored a bit and annoy the station nurse. Micha says he's happy for me, but I think he's not exactly thrilled about his situation. Understandable. I would much rather share the hotel room with him than with this Felix.
Well, not much happened until departure, and I don't want to bore anyone with the few insignificant events of the last days before the flight. We agreed with Marcel that we would meet at the airport, and since that means a 3-hour train ride for me, I decided to take an earlier train. In this regard, I am a bit peculiar. I didn't want to be left alone at the airport due to a possible train delay.
So here I am now with a fully packed travel bag at a phone booth in the airport, dutifully informing my mother of my scheduled arrival. After consuming the typical motherly worried advice and guidelines once again, I thank her nicely for the parental support of my plans and end the conversation with the words, "And say hi to Grandma for me."
So now it could actually start, but before the other three show up, it will probably take another two hours. I sit down on a bench and indulge in my favorite activity in such cases. I look for anything male, roughly my age, and not looking like Karl Dall. Maybe that's not exactly the polite English way, but somehow I always catch myself pretending to look casually in the direction of a nice boy.
Two weeks of vacation. The first long flight for me. I'm pretty happy, and only sometimes does this beautiful feeling get overshadowed by a bit of restlessness. In such cases, I check my hand luggage for at least the 20th time to make sure I have my passport, money, checks, etc. - each time reassured that I probably haven't forgotten anything important. To distract myself a bit, I want to grab a little something to eat. There are still almost three hours until departure, and it will take a while on the plane before there's food.
I decide, against my habits, to go for a not entirely unknown American fast-food chain. The price-performance ratio seems quite reasonable here, as I would have to invest a small fortune in the other places at the airport just for a few sausages with potato salad. The customer service proceeds as usual in several lines at the counter, and I first look for the shortest line.
Already in the hall, I had seen some nice guys, but in one line, there is really a guy who deserves the title 'particularly 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 clothing allows me to see) has nothing to complain about, and as I notice when he glances to the side, he has brown, bright eyes. I don't know exactly why, but I just find some boys extremely adorable, and he definitely belongs to that category.
In such cases, I always hope that no one notices my interested, furtive glances. While I am still lost in thought, a bit saddened that I never get to know such types, the not quite accent-free German-speaking waitress wakes me from my dreams. I order one of the offered menus, and after a few precise grabs by the waitress, the components of it land on my tray.
I look around again but unfortunately can no longer see the nice-looking boy. Too bad! At a table, I begin to examine the items I ordered. I first open the small cardboard box and bet that my expression looks quite suspicious while doing so.
I recognize among other things a lettuce leaf, a piece of cucumber, and some tomato. All in all, it is supposed to give the impression that the contents of the package really are something to eat.
While I eat my meal, I realize that I shouldn’t take too much time if I want to be on time at the agreed meeting point. So, I take my empty tray to the designated shelf and make my way with my luggage. I can already spot Marcel and his girlfriend Lisa from afar, but Felix is nowhere to be seen.
"Hi Maik, we thought you changed your mind," the two laugh.
"Not at all, I'm ready for the island and I'm looking forward to seeing you. Where's Felix?"
"He wanted to buy batteries for his camera, but here he comes."
"Hey, looks like we're all here," someone laughs from behind me. "I guess you're Maik, right?"
I turn around somewhat surprised at the unfamiliar voice, and before I can respond, Marcel says:
"That's Maik. Maik, this is Felix."
I was a bit confused; the boy standing in front of me (or rather, until then behind me) somehow didn’t match the Felix I remembered from that birthday party. Well, I had never asked Marcel if it was actually this Felix or one I didn’t know yet, as it seemed to be the case now. For a moment, I must have looked quite silly, because the boy standing in front of me was exactly the cute guy I had discreetly admired just 15 minutes ago.
"How was your hamburger earlier, did you like it?" I ask Felix.
"Well, it was okay," he replies, surprised. "Are you a clairvoyant, or did I spill half of it on my jacket?" At these words, Felix looks down at himself quite worriedly.
"No, neither, but you were in front of me in line earlier."
"Really? I didn't notice. Well, I sometimes zone out," he apologizes.
"It’s nice that YOU are full for now," Lisa chimes in. "Marcel and I actually wanted to grab a little something to eat after we check in. Are you coming with us?"
We were less inclined to do that. Felix wanted to head to the observation deck to possibly take a picture of our airplane, and since I was interested in that too, I offered to join him. The check-in process went surprisingly quickly. In ten minutes, each of us had checked in our luggage and received a boarding pass in exchange. We even got very good seats. Marcel and Lisa are sitting right in front of us, just like us (that is, Felix and I), one by the window and the other in the seat next to it.
As discussed, we separate again for a while. Marcel and Lisa go to satisfy their hunger, and Felix and I head towards the observation deck. We are lucky; our airplane is already at the gate, and we can take one or two photos. Felix tells me that he is very interested in civil aviation and is often found at the airport. In fact, within a few minutes, I already know quite a bit 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 share the most important details about myself as well, since we will be sharing a room for two weeks, and it’s good to know a bit about each other. I remember seeing double beds in the travel brochure that Marcel showed me. So, if I have to (or rather, get to) share a bed with this boy, I will probably sleep quite restlessly. Felix seems really nice, and I can’t understand the girl who lets such a dream boy slip away.
Watching airplanes take off and land is fascinating. As I watch a jumbo jet take off, I hope that our plane will bravely defy the treacherous force of gravity. I’m not afraid of flying, but it does feel a bit strange.
Forty minutes later, all four of us are already seated on the plane. Felix is inspecting the brochures and instructions in the seatback pocket in front of him, while Marcel is telling Lisa every conceivable horror story about plane crashes. A flight attendant is trying, unsuccessfully, to get the passengers’ attention for her safety instructions, and I check my seatbelt for a perfect fit.
I enjoy the takeoff, which is one of my favorite moments of flying. By now, it has almost become dark, and since it’s slightly cloudy, the last lights visible from the window soon disappear. At this moment, I think of Micha and hope that he will be part of the next trip.
A little later, the flight attendants begin distributing dinner. Felix and I decide on sliced meat, while Marcel and Lisa choose fish. Everyone knows that as long as the meal is neatly packaged on the tray, there is plenty of room available, but woe betide you if you have even just freed the cutlery from its packaging; then it takes the skill of a magician to manage on the small table without jabbing your neighbor with the fork.
After the meal, we receive a small bottle of sparkling wine, so to speak, as a sleep drink. I connect my headphones to the onboard entertainment system and take a look at the accompanying program booklet. Just a few more minutes and I close my eyes. I feel really comfortable. With the prospect of two beautiful weeks during which I will share a room with a pretty sweet boy, I fall asleep to the last notes of "somebody loves you" (Nik Kershaw).