Work Text:
Another day, another endless stream of cranky travelers who are either trying to rush through their burgers at lightning speed, or are nursing a single Bud Light for three hours trying to pass the time. To my eyes, all I see are families who I can tell aren’t going to leave a tip, or someone who’s preventing me from turning over tables.
“Hey Maureen, I’m back from my ten,” my coworker Nick says as I clear a two-top. He adjusts his standard-issue black ballcap with the chili pepper embroidered on it, removing it by the brim to sweep a hand through his shaggy blonde hair.
Nick’s sweet, he really is. He's not quite like a son to me; he's more like the cool queer nephew who actually wants to hang out with me, his old-school lesbian auntie. I've helped him come to terms with his bisexuality, but also steered him clear of crushing on every single cute person that comes through the Orlando International Airport.
Nick's a great coworker, too. The kind of guy who asks customers where they’re traveling to, and will refill people’s personal water bottles with ice for them. Reminds me of my youth; I used to be that chipper, too. It’s been too many years working in this airport for me to bother with all the niceties anymore.
“Thanks, hon. We got a rowdy bachelorette party headed to Cancun, I assume, over in section 2, so why don’t you take that, and we can split the tips?” I offer, knowing that his friendly demeanor will score him at least twenty percent of the bill, and even more if he really lays on the charm. Nick’s so handsome with that all-American face and football star build, and he’s generous enough to share some of his tips with me on these slower days.
It’s not a great job, but it ain’t half-bad either. It pays the bills, and it’s not like I’m expected to be like some of the guys I see come through here with their suits and expensive timepieces, and those stupid phone things that seem to be permanently affixed to their ears. I can leave my work at work, and the worst that ever happens is some clumsy person knocks over a half-full glass of strawberry lemonade, and I gotta clean it up.
I used to work at the Applebee’s in terminal A, but I'd had my eye on the Chili's for years. Besides Duty-Free, this is widely known as the best spot to work in the entire airport because of the drinks and the apps, and of course the tips that come along with 'em. This position opened up eight years ago, and I was lucky enough to snag it.
A slender man, about Nick’s age, catches my eye as I make myself busy squaring off tables in the crowded dining room. His curly hair is disheveled like he’d been running late at security thanks to something metal he’d forgotten in his bag, and sprinted to his gate, only to be surprised by an unannounced delay. The guy juts his chin toward the table off in the corner, asking to sit there. I wink at him in approval.
I watch as he stumbles over his personal items, bumping a cartoonishly impossible number of chairs and tables along his route to the shame-seat, as I like to call it. It’s where solo travelers, usually sad-sacks or minor celebrities, love to sit and get day-drunk before their flights.
I saunter over to the stack of menus we keep at the otherwise-unused hostess station, granting him a little extra time to get settled with his two heavy carry-ons and grocery bag full of…it can’t be. I squint my aging eyes to peer a little closer as the contents adjust after he drops the bag to the floor with a huff. It’s not often I’m surprised by anything I see on the job, but to be carrying all that out in the open like that? For all us God-fearing waitresses and their mothers to see? I’m impressed by the audacity.
Looks like he could use a drink. Making sure I place the beverage menu on top of the food one, I ask if I can get him started with anything.
“Is it bad if all I want is an Awesome Blossom and five margaritas?”
“Honey, we are in an airport Chili’s. Nothing matters. Time isn’t real. Regular, or Blue Curacao?”
“Surprise me,” he responds as he quirks an eyebrow without looking up from the sticky plastic literature on the table before him. I turn to go put in his order when he perks up and calls after me. “No, wait, actually, diet Coke, please. Maybe I’ll just go for five Awesome Blossoms. I’m feeling extra awesome today.”
His voice drips with sarcasm, but despite surprising me for a second time - I really pegged him as a weary businessman heading home from a conference who loves mediocre mixed drinks - I respond with my well-practiced mhm and a wink over my shoulder.
I hold off on putting in a second order of Awesome Blossom, since he looks like he could barely eat a single baby-back rib. But then again, maybe he’s in the midst of a midlife crisis. Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s done unspeakable things to massive amounts of food in this Chili’s. Who am I to judge?
His soda is up fast enough and, when I place it on the coaster in front of him, he gazes up at me through thick lashes. His eyes are so strikingly blue that they could turn a lesbian, honestly. If my Tina from the Burger King in my old terminal wasn’t so gorgeous with her own baby blues, they just might turn me.
“Sorry about earlier. It’s been a long week,” he offers a half-hearted grin before narrowing his eyes to read my nametag. “Maureen, are there any handsome men who work in any of these shops who are available?”
I snap my gum out of surprise. I did not peg him as one of us, given his rather boring suit, and his necktie printed with rainbows, his fashionable shoes and bags, and…the contents of his bag that are rolling around at his feet… Oh. How did I miss all these puzzle pieces?
Of course I soften to the poor guy. “Hon, I am the wrong gal to be asking about single men around here. You wanna talk about what’s going on?”
He sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I forgot about the stupid metal butt plug in my suitcase. So I had to go into a private room and have all of my luggage pawed through. Like, the TSA agent took out every single one of my personal items, including the travel-approved vibrators and collection of very large dildos. And it wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t look exactly like my ex-boyfriend who broke up with me five days ago while he was dropping me off at the airport for my trip!”
All my years in the service industry couldn’t have prepared me to school my face over that series of misfortunes. It’s not often I’m left speechless.
I hum softly, willing my brain to think of anything conversational to say. “Well, how was your trip?”
He looks up at me again, and his face brightens a bit, like he’s really proud. He’s got a cute dimple. I better keep Nick away from this guy. Dimples are his weakness.
“Endless meetings and showcases. Networked with way too many smarmy guys with bad toupees. Closed a lot of deals, made a lot of sales. It’s the biggest convention of the year so, all in all, I’m pretty pleased. I just wish that I hadn’t been broken up with minutes before stepping onto the plane. And, that the flight that I was rushing to catch just now wasn’t delayed for-” he checks his wristwatch. It’s one of those fancy businessman watches with a leather strap, but I think I spot that the second-hand is a…penis. This guy is full of surprises. “-three hours. At the very least, they could’ve announced the delay before I sprinted through the entire airport. So anyway, Maureen, there’s my life story.”
The best I can do is offer a sympathetic smile. That is a lot. Thank goodness he’s drunk most of his soda by now, so I shoot him another wink, and make my exit to go get him a refill.
“Psst, Maureen!” Nick stage-whispers as I slide the quarter-full glass across the bar. “What’s that guy’s deal?”
“Who, Awesome Blossom? Flying home from some convention. Why?” I ask, before my brain catches up with me. “Oh, Nick. You cannot get your hopes up with these men that come through here! Chili's is not the place to find romance!”
Nick fills the glass with more diet Coke. “Maureen, I can see his dimples from all the way back in the kitchen! What am I supposed to do? Not go talk to him?”
“...Yeah?”
“If you hadn’t U-Hauled with Tina, you’d realize that working here, in the best restaurant that serves liquor in all of MCO, is the ideal place to flirt with people. Besides, he looks sad! And…single? I could cheer him up!” he adds hopefully.
I roll my eyes fondly to indicate that, yes, at least one of Nick’s criteria is indeed met. “I s’pose that’s true. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again, might as well try,” I shrug, taking the glass and walking back to my section.
“Wait! Psst!”
I pull my lips into a grin, somehow knowing exactly what Nick is wanting. I turn back around to see him rubbing the back of his neck. It’s his nervous habit. He must be serious about butt plug guy.
“Find out his name? Where he lives? Anything? Pleeease?” Nick quietly pleads. I smirk and shake my head with a wink, not about to reveal to Nick all that the poor guy has divulged to me already, and head to the table in the corner.
“So what do you do for work, anyway?” I ask nonchalantly, as if I can’t feel Nick’s eyes drilling into the back of my skull from behind the bar.
“I head the marketing team for a sex toy company,” the guy answers plainly as he reaches for the sweating glass.
I snap my gum, not on purpose this time. “You…what?”
“Sex toys. You know: personal massagers, dildos, that sort of stuff. It’s a company that sells to all, but it’s my job to reach the 'alternative lifestyle' markets. Gay men, bisexuals, lesbians, all of us, really.”
Makes sense why he has so many little friends in his luggage. I just thought he was some sort of pervert, like Tina. Tina! “Oh my god, I’m a lesbian!”
He chuckles at my outburst. “I had an inkling. It takes a lot to draw me away from Auntie Anne’s, but I thought there was something special about you, and your cute coworker over there,” he flicks his sparkling blue eyes behind me, to where Nick is just out of earshot and is surely melting into the consistency of Skillet Queso. “I was thinking that there’s no harm in getting acquainted with the local gays while I wait for boarding.”
“Well, congratulations, you’ve befriended one of Orlando International Airport’s lesbians.”
When I return to the kitchen to check on the guy’s order, Nick lures me over again.
“ Please can I take over your section,” he begs. “I’ll do anything. I'll do your uniform laundry! Take every Saturday shift for the rest of the year!"
I pretend to consider his offer deeply, both of us knowing that I'd give my left tit for the kid without a second thought. So of course, I simply respond with a wink.
Immediately, he snaps up the way-too-extravagant-for-one-person appetizer, and I perch myself behind the half-wall to watch.
“Hi,” Nick greets him, his voice strangely breathy.
A beat passes, and I think Nick is absolutely done for, when the guy responds with an even breathier “Hi.”
Another beat of the two men staring into each other’s eyes, and then Nick shakes his head as if he just remembered that he is a waiter in the airport Chili’s and is holding a gigantic battered and deep-fried onion. “Awesome Blossom, extra awesome?” What an opening line.
I roll my eyes, leaving Nick to fumble his way through flirting with that poor guy. But as I stand up and begin walking over to greet a pair of snowbirds on their way home to probably Ohio for the summer, I hear a giggle from the table. And then another joins in. I hear the two grown men giggling. Maybe Nick isn't such a hopeless disaster after all.
Trying to leave them alone, I get into my groove of wiping tables and restocking the bar. Twenty or so minutes later, one of the bridesmaids is falling out of her chair, so I cut the bachelorette party off and close them out. Despite this, they tip almost thirty percent on their three-margaritas-each bill thanks to Nick's suave service earlier. Score.
As I clear the last of their dishes, I finally look over to see…Nick dipping a piece of the Awesome Blossom in the sauce, and feeding it to the guy from across the table? That is not listed in the Chili’s wait staff code of conduct. But, what can I say? Maybe I should believe in romance, even in this unlikeliest of places. It's not like others haven't found love in this airport before.
“Can I get you boys anything else?” I ask cheekily, hoping to rouse a reaction out of Nick. Disappointingly, he is unfazed.
“No, I think I might clock off early if that’s alright,” Nick states, rubbing both his thumbs along the other guy’s knuckles as they hold hands. “How long did you say you have until your flight?”
The guy mimes squinting across the entire restaurant and the wide corridor, as if checking. Maybe an hour has passed since he first sat down. “Oh, we’ve got enough time,” he says with a wink.
My gum just about falls out of my mouth as my jaw drops. Did Nick actually manage to bag a customer? Slack-jawed, I watch a blush rise across Nick’s freckled cheeks as he looks down at his lap, and in turn a blush across his tablemate’s face. Is this really happening? Right in front of me, Nick’s surrogate cool aunt?
Scrambling for what, if anything, I'm supposed to do in this situation, I mutter, “Uh, Nick, can I speak with you for a second?”
“Sure. By the way, Maureen, this is Charlie!” Nick beams as he glances briefly at me, only to return his steadfast gaze to the guy.
“It’s a pleasure, Maureen,” Charlie extracts his hands from Nick’s, and offers one to me. I accept it. He’s got a strong, businessman handshake. Perhaps the only thing about him that hasn't taken me by surprise. “Thank you for everything. May I have the bill? I don’t want Nick here thinking I’m just in this for the free appetizers.”
I’m not sure if that is meant as an innuendo, but I’m taking it as such. I smile brightly at Charlie, and grasp Nick’s elbow to all but drag him back to the till. I suck in a breath, about to lay into Nick for making irresponsible choices, but then clock his face. He looks like a lovesick puppy. I can see the smile lines form as his eyes crinkle when he admires the guy from across the room. His adorable smile turns megawatt when they connect eyes.
“He’s sweet, right?” Nick asks, seeking my approval.
It reminds me of when I first met Tina. I had been crushing on her for ages, never even gathering the nerve to say hello. Watching her work the register in her little orange visor at the Burger King across the corridor from Applebee's made my day, every day. The way she’d greet customers was so aloof and efficient. Every once in a while, if I was serving a table out in front of my restaurant, I could catch a hint of her gruff sarcasm. I swear I was smitten from the first time I heard her laugh, which revealed that she’s a lifelong smoker.
One day, we both happened to be clocking off at the same time after a particularly stressful shift. It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, so terminal A was packed. We walked in tandem towards the employee parking lot, not saying a word. We passed the family bathroom, and she paused. “Maureen, right?”
“I- yes?”
“Tina. Do you want to…”
With a single tilt of her head toward the single-stall facility, she conveyed her every intention. Nearly two decades later, we still share an occasional intimate moment in that bathroom.
“Maureen?” Nick’s voice brings me back from my trip down memory lane. “What do you think of Charlie?”
Who am I to judge? We work in the airport Chili’s for goodness' sake. “Hon, he’s great. But can I tell you one thing?”
Nick turns to me, brows knit in concern.
“They don’t clean the family bathroom in this terminal until seven on weeknights. You better use our supply closet. I’ll cover for you.”
Nick gives me a big old hug, and scurries back to his man. Soon enough, I click the supply closet door behind Nick, Charlie, and Charlie’s luggage full of sex toys. I place the yellow Slippery When Wet sign in front, and go greet my next customers.