Things Are Not Always As They Seem

The airport that I had found myself standing in was huge. It was one of the largest airports I had ever been in. I looked around in awe and observed the millions of people from hundreds of different nations marching through the airport, not observing anything that was going on around them, completely and utterly focussed on getting to their destination. There were children crying hysterically as they tugged at the arms that were dragging them around the colossal Amsterdam Airport. Men and women alike were grabbing items in various gift shops in a manner that made me think they were competing for some unspoken prize. Lines went on for thousands of miles, and the till clerks had non-challant looks about their faces as if they were used to all of this.

“Next please,” yelled the air hostess. I was startled back to my present situation. Ten people away from boarding the plane that would carry me straight to Cape Town, South Africa, I went back to my daydreaming and listened attentively to the numerous sounds that filled the massive airport. The annoying “beep beep beep” of the little golf carts racing through the multitude echoed throughout the edifice. Cheesy Dutch music drifted faintly through the speakers in the vast room, and the whirring of roll-ons speeding down the moving walkway hurt my ears as they whizzed past.

“Ma’am, can I see your boarding pass, please?” the flight attendant asked me sweetly.

Startled, yet again, from my reverie, I replied, “Oh, yes! Sure. Here it is.”

I looked around again one more time to bid a silent farewell to the crazy jungle I had been silently observing.

“So long,” I whispered under my breath. “I won’t be seeing you again for another three weeks when I return to the States!”

I marched purposefully down the gangplank towards the large aircraft I would be seated on for the eleven-hour flight down to Cape Town. I smiled to myself because I knew that I would soon by seeing my family again after four months of being apart! It had been a long, first semester in college, and I was so ready to be in the company of my family again.

Once I got to the door of the aeroplane, a short, blonde woman with a round face and pleasant facial features said, “Welcome aboard! May I see your ticket please?”
After handing her the ticket, she informed me that I would be seated in aisle 10, seat D. I smiled, nodded my head in thanks, and walked cautiously down the narrow lane that spanned barely 25 inches in width, careful not to trip over a stray bag or foot.

Without much dilemma, I managed to get to my seat safely. My heart did a little dance of glee inside when I identified my seat to be the window seat! I was so happy that I wasn’t going to be sandwiched into the middle seat between two strangers.

After stowing my green, pink, orange, and brown striped roll-on into the overhead compartment above my seat, I sat down in my little seat, stuffed my pink backpack, with flowers printed all over it, under the seat in front of mine. I looked to my right, out the oval shaped window, and watched the little people in orange and yellow jackets running around about their business. I was thankful not to be out there in the cold, 40-degree Fahrenheit weather, but rather safe up in this crowded aircraft.

Suddenly, I heard a couple of people gasp and shriek in delight as some celebrity, I assumed, appeared on our plane. I sat up as tall as I possibly could to see if I could make any sighting of this person, whoever he or she may be, but my efforts were rendered useless.

Minutes later, however, I was shocked to see a tall man in a brown trench coat, a black bowling hat (one that you see many English men in Britain wear), and a curious looking scarf wrapped around his neck. He had a pale complexion, grey-blue eyes, dark hair, and a neat, little moustache that had been shaped perfectly.

“Excuse me sir, but you aren’t the famous Sherlock Holmes are you?” I asked hesitantly.

He laughed, “No my dear, I am not. But you are not the first to ask me that question.”

I smiled and, in reply, said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. My imagination goes wild sometimes.”

I rummaged through my little backpack to find a book to entertain myself with while we waited for the plane to take off. The man I had mistaken to be Sherlock Holmes sat down in the seat next to mine, and pulled out a little calculator. I found it a little strange that he would be amusing himself with a calculator of all things. But I went back to my reading, nonetheless, and thought of it no more.

We took off about fifteen minutes later and soared through the sky for an hour or so before anything began to happen on the aircraft. After that first hour, flight attendant after flight attendant kept on coming up to him and would whisper something in his ear. Every time he would either nod his head in agreement or shake it in disagreement. The attendant would then nod in acknowledgment and walk back down the aisle to whisper to his or her colleagues about whatever had just happened. Every time, without fail, the same process would repeat again and again and again.

The man seated next to me took out a little notebook and began jotting down notes furiously. He had the speed and agility to write fast like a cheetah does in its ability to sprint.

After the ninth attendant had come up to the Sherlock Holmes look-alike seated next to me, I finally got up the courage to ask the man what was going on. It was beginning to get ridiculous. It all looked so suspicious!

“Excuse me again, sir, but why have so many people come up to you to whisper to you? I’m sorry to be so nosey, but this is beginning to freak me out a little. Excuse the intrusion of your privacy.”

He chuckled and replied without hesitation, “Oh, my dear, those flight attendants were wondering the same thing you were when you first saw me. I informed them that I am not, in fact, Sherlock Holmes. I haven’t worked in theatre as one asked me, I haven’t acted in any movies as another enquired, and I haven’t been on Broadway. I haven’t ever been to Amsterdam before, and I have never gone to Africa. I am not moving there, I have no family there, I am just interested in seeing the sights and touring around the country for a month or so. I’m on holiday! I just retired! So I figured I’d live out my dream and see South Africa firsthand!”

“Wow!” I replied. “That’s really cool! But why the calculator and notebook?”

“Oh that!” He replied with a grin. “I’m calculating the currency exchange rate, how much I will get for the British pounds that I am bringing with me, and I was writing notes on my journey so far. I’m thinking of writing a book about my adventure to Southern Africa. I think it would be an interesting project!”

“That is incredible!” I said in reply. “I hope that goes well and that you enjoy your visit in South Africa.”

I smiled to myself as I thought about the events that had just taken place. The food was now being served. It smelt terrible, the eggs tasted raw, and the milk was off. But I was okay with that. I had learnt that things really are not always as they seem!