Scenes from Turkish airports.

Eating at the airport is always fraught with danger, I didn’t want McDonalds or those fast food pizzas that only have the taste of Italy if Italy is a cardboard map, I wanted a proper meal but that means it is a race against time. The restaurant was busy but I had nearly two hours before my flight, surely I could get seated, order and pay in the time available. Getting seated was the easy part, a small table, still cluttered with the last person’s empty crockery but at least I could take the weight off my feet. I flicked through the menu, to be honest it wasn’t inspiring but at least it was better than junk. I decided on the chicken wrap and tried to catch the waiter’s attention.

I first noticed the woman in the black dress as she was coming through security. She was in front of me in the queue and smiled and flirted with the security man.  She was tall in her red heels and had curves in all the right places. She was now sitting opposite me drinking coffee. Her lips were heavily made up with dark red lipstick that matched her shoes and left blurred lips marks on her coffee cup. She toyed with her phone, not really looking at it but playing with it as if waiting for the make or break call, but the phone didn’t ring.

I think I had become invisible, the waiting staff still hadn’t cleared the table let alone taken my order. I looked nervously at my watch, still time to eat but it time was marching. Should I order or should I cut my losses and go to McDonalds?

The man next to me looked tired. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to hit a pillow and let his head sink into the comfort, let his eyes close  and let sleep flood over him. He fidgeted, trying to get comfortable but it was as if the chance of sleep being so remote it made the aches and pains in his limbs throb a little bit more. He tried to stretch his legs, make himself comfortable but the seats in the restaurant were not designed for comfort. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes wondering if he could snatch a power snooze before his flight was called.

I finally caught the waiter’s eye, I tossed up whether to order and in the end decided to go ahead - I still had time. The waiter had the demeanour of a husband dutifully trotting behind his wife in Zara on a Saturday afternoon, slightly bored, uninterested, going through the motions.  He took my order and wandered away leaving me not entirely sure that food would ever turn up.

Her blue velour tracksuit did her no favours, the ugg boats didn’t either, she looked shapeless, a blob from out of space, but her dark black eyes hidden behind high cheek bones shone brightly and captured my attention and kept it like a well scripted novel. I read those eyes, trying to read her thoughts. Her face was passive, not a hint of a smile or a frown, just neutral but her eyes told me her brain was busy, contemplating life, weighing up options. There was a sadness in those eyes, a worry that she tried to stop the world from seeing. Fear of flying, fear of what was waiting for her at arrivals, or sadness at what she was leaving behind. Who knew?

I was really beginning to doubt that the waiter had taken my order, food was coming out of the kitchen but it went in all directions bar mine. I looked at my watch nervously, still okay but I was getting restless. I looked at my watch again and then at the kitchen door but still nothing.

She had a smile like a child might draw one stretched across her face but with slanted lines at each end. Her mouth seemed like a rubber band as she talked on her phone. But no time for that, the wrap had finally found its way to my table, time to eat. I looked at the offering on my plate and wondered if to send it back. I knew just from looking at it that it was cold, that it had been sitting on a counter in the kitchen waiting for the lazy waiter to pull his finger out. It was meant to be a wrap but I would hate to see whoever assembled it’s Christmas presents. I hadn’t touched it yet but just the journey from kitchen to table and it had already started unravelling. But there was no time to send it back. I picked up my knife and fork and tucked in with the enthusiasm of my waiter.

‘Take care, see you in a couple of days,’ I heard her say the words and looked up from my ‘food’. She’d said the words matter of factly, bordering on flippantly but as her male colleague walked away the glance she gave him when she was sure he wasn’t looking revealed the truth behind the words. Her eyes followed him filled with longing while her smile told me that she was already missing him and imagining what she might like to do to him next time they met, (not that she would). Meanwhile he walked away none the wiser, oblivious to the lustful eyes trailing him across the terminal.

I pushed the plate away from me, there was still a half of the wrap left but I’d eaten enough. I looked at my watch and then tried to get the waiter’s attention. I got my wallet out and put it on the table to show the waiting staff I was ready to pay. But again I’d become invisible, they ambled around, carrying food, carrying empties but ignoring me. I looked at my watch. I really wanted to get to the gate now. I decided enough was enough. The service had been terrible, the food barely edible and now they obviously didn’t want my money. So I popped my computer in my bag, popped my wallet back in to my pocket, stood up and just walked away.