The Hot Tamales

The boarding doors are closed and once again, we're packed like sardines in a metal airborne tube.

Both members of the little Hispanic couple next to me are short and compact...he with his dusty cowboy boots and a handlebar mustache and she stuffed into an olive green suit with a slicked back ponytail that shines in the glow of the pinlight above her head. Holding hands, whispering sweet nothings, they are hidden away in the last row--their little love nest--also known as Row 38, seats D and E.

His boots come off and I can't help but smile at the sight of his short little toes wiggling around in little white socks. They feast together on an airline meal of grapes, crackers and cheese...acting as if they are not in the back of an airplane but instead tucked away in a cozy, romantic booth in a very fine restaurant.

He's smooching her cheek again.

I shall call them the Hot Tamales...this cute little twosome beside me.

They make me smile.