LGA

LGA

by Sam Ford

Dave was sitting at the bar drinking Johnny Walker Black on the rocks. He hadn’t slept right in two days. His blue eyes were raw and his face was covered in stubble. He was still wearing his work-tux, the bowtie and collar undone. Night before, his boss’d told him it was his last chance. “You look like shit, Dave. Don’t show up looking and smelling like this again.” Then his boss sent him home.

Dave was a caterer. He was an actor and a caterer. He was a caterer.

The TV set was muted on CNN. Dave glanced up every once in a while. There was always a lot to read on CNN. Dave took a tilt of his scotch till it was down to ice and water. He rubbed his eyelids. His head hurt.

“Excuse me,” Dave said to the bartender. “Do you have an Advil back there? Or an Aleve or something? Aspirin?”

“Sorry,” the bartender said. “But they sell all that stuff in the terminal. There’s a shop just down around the corner there.”

The bartender held out his arm and pointed a finger somewhere.

“That’s okay,” Dave said.

The bartender was a heavyset man in his late fifties. He wore a white button-down shirt with a maroon vest and black tie. His gold plastic name-tag said “Carl”. His teeth were grey and he had big liver-spotted hands.

“I’ll have another drink,” Dave said.

“There’s always that for a cure,” the bartender smiled, refilling Dave’s glass. Dave caught a whiff of the bartender’s breath and turned away. It smelled like old salmon. Dave's eyes started watering. He took a long pull off the fresh glass.

He wished he could smoke in the bar. In the terminal. In the airport. He’d smoke and smoke. He’d smoke four of the Winstons that were in his polyester tuxedo jacket back-to-back-to-back-to-back.

He was 29 years-old.

According to CNN the time was “2:46pET”. Dave wished he had a good book in front of him. A book that’d make him look attractive but nothing from acting school. No Shakespeare or Beckett. And no bestsellers either. Maybe some poetry. But nothing too obvious. Randall Jarrell. Charles Simic. Why would he be reading that shit? He barely understood any of it anyway. No. A novel would be better. Something hard-boiled. Jim Thompson. Dave couldn’t remember the last time he’d read a book. He wondered if he could still get through one. Occasionally he’d leaf through a magazine but for the most part they made him feel suicidal.

It was 2:52pET. Dave was waiting and he knew it. The sound of turbines hummed through the windows. A woman four seats away from Dave was talking on her Blackberry.

“I kno-oh-ohw...What’d I tell you…”

Dave could feel his pulse knocking around in his neck like the chest-burster from Alien. He loved airports. Transit, movement, energy, technology. Contained. He hated airports. Transit, movement, energy. Contained. It occurred to him to check his cell-phone. A missed call from his mother. He took another long drink. He rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“You got a paper back there?” he asked the bartender.

“Paper?”

The bartender handed Dave a piece of scratch paper and a pen.

“No like…a newspaper.”

“Sorry. I didn’t hear you say newspaper. There’s a newspaper and magazine shop just around the corner there.”

Dave through a twenty and a five on the bar and walked off. His mother’s voicemail vibrated in.

He made his way over to the departures/arrivals screens and found Lacey’s flight. It was 112 from LAX and it was arriving on time. Hers would be baggage claim C. Dave took the escalator to baggage claim C.

Thousands of humans were moving about the area. Families. Couples. Soloists. Old folks. Young folks. Moving past each other. Through each other. Against each other. A Latin boy no older than three was crying as he held his mother’s hand. A teenage girl in a halter-top and huge sunglasses was staring at her iPhone. A clean-looking man in a suit was yanking a suitcase off the conveyer belt. “C’mon, Goddammit,” he barked. His cell-phone rang and he quickly picked it up. “Yeah?” he said.

Dave located claim C and plopped down in a seat nearby. Legs and feet and the footsteps they created were ripping through his line of sight. His head buckled and throbbed. He was sweating three days worth of booze. He pulled off the tux jacket and stuffed it behind his back.

“Don’t say it, Doris, don’t say it,” an elderly man was speaking to his wife as they dragged their luggage across the floor. “I don’t want to hear any of your mouth, that mouth of yours right now.” He was wearing a turquoise polo shirt and plaid shorts. She was in a purple blouse and tight leopard print pants that showed off the various rolls and ripples in her aged body. Her lips were smeared with bright red lipstick that overflowed just under her nose and down around her chin. He was fast and far ahead of her.

Security guards were everywhere. Airport cops. Dave could just see at the other end of the terminal - two men in full army fatigues with assault rifles and helmets.

Dave was originally from Indiana.

He wondered if Lacey would look different. If she would be different. They’d been apart for six months. Dave looked down at his black shoes. He’d bought them at the Astor Place K-Mart for $24.99. They were holding up well, he thought.

A digital clock on the wall shot 3:12 at him. He got up and walked through the sliding doors onto the pavement. The sun was shining and he could even hear some birds. Dave lit a cigarette and wiped his face with the cuff of his white shirt. It was better outside. Less frenzied. He liked outside. In general. He wondered why he didn’t go out more. Up to Central Park. Or Washington Square. Or some of the Brooklyn Parks. He lived in Crown Heights. Prospect Park wasn’t too far. He liked that park. He’d never been there but he liked it.

It was 3:19 when he made his way back inside the baggage claim. He looked around and couldn’t believe it when he spotted Lacey. She was standing in front of the conveyer belt waiting for her luggage to appear. Just like everyone else. Dave was suddenly so overcome with joy that his throat lumped and pin-size tears started to bloom in the corners of his eyes. For a moment he forgot who he was. It was an incredible feeling. He’d had moments like this in acting school. Freedom.

He made his way over to Lacey. In his mind and in his heart, all of the billions of people in the room were stopping what they were doing and turning to watch him move toward her. There was complete silence. People were awestruck. Dave had played Richard once for a Shakespeare benefit show at his school. It’d only been one scene, but he’d left the audience completely shattered. It was like that now. The little Latin boy was no longer crying but instead stared at Dave as though he were watching a shooting star in slow-motion. The girl on her iPhone was gazing at Dave as if he were Brad Pitt proposing to her. The irritable man with the luggage and the ringing cell-phone fell to his knees and re-thought his entire life. And the elderly couple joined hands and kissed ever so gently on the lips. She wiped the lipstick he inherited from her off his face. “Oh Phil,” she said…

Dave bumped into a large black man in a security uniform.

“Excuse me,” Dave said.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man said and stepped around him.

Dave’s stomach turned and he felt other people move around him and brush past him and bump into him. He could hear voices all around him. Whispering. Talking. Making plans. Where for dinner? Cab. Where’d you park?/How was the flight/Did they feed you?/Wow, you’re so early/We would’ve been here earlier if they hadn’t circled/How was Curacao?/How was Amsterdam?/How are you?/I love you/I hate airports/Do you want some water?/I’m just gonna’ use the bathroom/Hi!!!

Dave pushed past them all. He was drenched in sweat. Lacey was still standing there waiting for her luggage. She was wearing a black tank-top. Jeans. Her long light-brown hair was pulled back. She was the same height. The same weight. Dave recognized her clothes. He recognized her.

He came up behind her and touched her arm. She jumped and turned to face him.

“Hi,” he said.

She threw her arms around him and he put his arms around her and they stood there like that.

“I missed you,” she told him in his ear.

It made him feel good. He said it back.

“Where’s your luggage?” he laughed.

“I don’t know. Geez, I’ve been waiting here a while.”

They were looking in each other eyes. They were smiling at each other.

Lacey was just one year younger than Dave. They met when they both had guest spots on “Law & Order: SVU”. They played brother and sister. When the cameras weren’t rolling, they told each other stories. Lacey was originally from Texas. She’d studied drama at U.T. and had only been in the city three months. But she was pretty and thin and she’d quickly found herself both a good agent and a manager. Dave, on the other hand, had gotten his audition by submitting his headshot and resume himself. Luck had leaned on him a little stronger in those days.

“You look a little rough, baby,” she told him. “Been into the whiskiss much?”

“I’ll fake it through the day…,” he sang softly.

She kissed him.

“You need a shave and a shave,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I been rolled a bit.”

“Why?”

“Miss my baby.”

“Aww…”

She took his hand.

“How was Los Angeles, Lacey Jean?” he asked her.

“Oh, it was pretty good,” she said.

“Where’s your luggage?”

“I just don’t know,” she laughed.

They turned and watched the suitcases and bags and briefcases shuffle past them. Then Lacey spotted hers. It was canary yellow and almost as big as she was. Dave pulled it up off of the belt.

“Could we maybe get a cup of coffee,” he said.

“Sure,” Lacey said. “Where?”

“How ‘bout here,” Dave said.

“Here?”

“Yeah.”

“At the airport?”

“Here at the airport, yeah. I know a charming little café just around the bend. I just need a little hit a’ the old bean. Then I’ll be ready to take back my woman from the land of the slowly dying.”

“You look like you’re the one slowly dying, sonny boy,” she said. “And I thought you were gonna’ ease back.”

“Yeah I thought so too. I was wrong. C’mon. Coffee me.”

They walked to Figs restaurant in the central terminal. They were seated in a booth and Dave told their waiter “just coffee.” Then they sat there across from each other. Holding hands across the table.

“Why’re you still wearing you’re armor, baby,” Lacey asked Dave. “Did you sleep at home last night?”

“Yeah. In my armor. I just had to rough it up a bit.”

“Where was the event?”

“Lincoln Center. Insult to injury.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. So how was Lah?”

“It was good. It was real good actually.”

Dave bit the inside of his lower lip. He could feel his nerves tingle throughout his body. The waiter arrived with the coffee. Dave through milk and sweetener in his. He took a long sip. It seared his tongue but he shook it off, grinned to himself.

“Fuckin’ hangover,” he said.

Lacey just looked at him.

“I’m sorry so…how was…how was it?” Dave asked, squeezing a smile across his face.

“Well…I was auditioning a lot so…”

“That’s good…”

“It…Yeah it was good. And some things were hit and miss, y’know. And a lotta’ that stuff’s just trash. Y’know like…They’re re-doing 90210…”

“Really, oh shit…no shit…”

“Yeah…And I mean it’s garbage, y’know but…”

“Yeah but, y’know, you gotta’…”

“Anyway so…yeah, I mean…Anyway but….A few days ago I tested for this pilot.”

“Tested, whaddayou mean like…for the network?”

“Yeah.” Lacey smiled sheepishly and looked away.

“Well that’s great. That’s great. I mean, that’s great.”

“Yeah. I mean I was pretty nervous but....it went really well.”

“Fuck man, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well I didn’t wanna’ jinx it, y’know? And I didn’t know how you’d feel about it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Whaddayou mean?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.”

They stopped holding hands. Dave was looking at her. She was turned away. Looking around the restaurant. Figs at LaGuardia’s Central Terminal.

“Well did you get the part or not? I mean…”

“I don’t know yet,” Lacey said. “We haven’t heard yet. We’re waiting.”

“What happens if you get it, you gotta’ move out there, right?”

“Well, I mean…I don’t have it yet. It’s not a done deal.”

Two well-dressed young men passed by Dave and Lacey’s booth. One of them looked over at Lacey.

“Hi,” he said.

Lacey ignored him.

“David,” Lacey said. “I don’t want you to worry. I just want to enjoy being back here for a while. I miss New York.”

“Well you’re back,” Dave said. “You can’t miss it if you’re back. You’re talking about it like you’re still gone.”

“Yeah, no…I am back. I’m back. So let’s just enjoy being together.”

Dave’s lungs tightened like a fist. He could smell himself and it made him want to puke. He was shocked he hadn’t already. His mind started drifting to his credit card debt. He was pretty sure it was somewhere around six thousand dollars. He hadn’t been on an audition in close to three months. The last one had been for an off-off Broadway revival of “The Importance of Being Earnest.” It would’ve been unpaid. After his monologue the people in the room said, “Great. Thanks for coming in, Mike.”

“What’s the…what’s the part?” Dave said. “What’s the show?”

“It’s actually…don’t laugh. It’s actually for a Zach Braff project. But it’s TV. It’s just a pilot but…he’s the executive producer and...”

“Why would I laugh at that?”

“…He’s directing the first…I dunno.”

“I like Zach Braff.”

“You hated that movie.”

“Not really.”

“You said that movie was like watching someone fart as loud as they could, cry, then smile, and then dare someone to fart louder.”

“I said all that?”

“Something like that. I remember the ‘cry, then smile.’”

“Whatever. Guy’s got a huge fuckin’ ego. Who doesn’t?”

“Are you gonna’ be like this for a while?”

“I’m sorry. I’m turning thirty soon. I’m starting to get a little worried. Last night I served gin and tonics in plastic cups to six thousand year-old women in black sequins and men in shawls. So I feel a little fucked-up about the plan, y’knowwhatImean?”

“It’s gonna’ be okay.”

“Yes it is. And I’m really happy for you, Lacey. And I knew that this would happen and it scared me and it scares me. Okay? That’s the God’s honest. Things are getting real very fast. And I’m a fuckin’ slowpoke. Midwestern.”

Dave heard a cell-phone ring. It was Lacey’s. She looked at it and picked it up.

“Hi, mama…I just landed a little while ago…Yup, he’s here…He’s doin’ good…Aww, the flight was alright…Yeah, they gave me a little somethin’…Yeah….Listen, lemme call you later, ‘kay?...Yeah, ‘cause we’re just sittin’ down here and talkin’ for a little bit…Okay, I will…Okay, talk to you later…Love you too…Bye…”

Lacey looked up at Dave.

“How is she?” he asked.

“She’s the same.”

“Is she excited about the pilot and everything?”

“Yeah. She doesn’t really know what it means.”

The waiter came by with a fresh pot of coffee. Neither Dave nor Lacey required a refill. Dave looked at the waiter. He was a fresh-faced Latino kid. He looked like he was fifteen years-old.

“What’s your name?” Dave asked him.

“Freddie,” the waiter replied through an accent.

“Thanks, Freddie,” Dave said.

“No problem,” Freddie said as he walked off.

“I missed you, David,” Lacey said.

“I missed you,” Dave said.

Lacey’s eyes were green. People often had to look twice.

“I don’t want to go back to Los Angeles,” she said. “If I have to I mean. I really don’t wanna’ have to be there.”

“There’s always Mexico,” Dave said. “A little villa somewhere near Freddie’s hometown. We’ll raise burros. Drink coffee and mezcal. Die simple.”

“You are such a fuckin’ depressed fucker,” she said giggling.

“Did you kiss any other boys while you were out there?” Dave asked.

“I had to kiss a boy for the audition for this Zach Braff thing.”

“What was he like? A handsome fella?”

“He was an Abercrombie model who couldn’t stop telling me about his boyfriend.”

“Hmm.”

“Are we done drinkin’ coffee yet?” Lacey asked. “Mama needs some low-lit, high thread-countin’ action. Catch my drift, drifter?”

“Phew,” Dave said.

He put ten dollars on the table and they got up.

Lacey’s cell-phone rang. She looked at it.

“Shit, it’s my agent,” she said. “She probably just wants to know that I got in okay. Just gimme a second, baby.”

Lacey walked swiftly ahead of Dave and answered her phone. Dave stood there watching her. She kept moving further off. Dave looked at her long body. Her cowboy boots.

Dave thought of Humphrey Bogart. He pictured Humphrey Bogart. Real hard until he felt like he almost was him.

It helped a little.














for my friend Brooke

LI, NY (8/11/08)