Chapter 1 I

Yeah, sure, sit down I said while I could hear cogs in my head turning. Since I had been teached not to stare at people I looked down to my plate and rammed some toast in my mouth, because I could also hear cogs turning in my stomach.

I started chewing when it came down on me, it was the man from the airport!, that one bastard that had all but rammed me! I brusquely looked up from my plate to look at the man across the table, not quite opposite, but towards my left.

I noticed then that he was staring at me with something like a smile.

--Yeah, at the airport, that's me.--

 I guess I looked surprised, and perhaps not at my best with a mouthful of toast to deal with, because his smile widened into a grin

--I'd like to apologize again--

-- Well, do not worry it's ok -- I was trying to get on top of things and said

-- what a coincidence that we are both in the same hotel, uh? -- I thought his accent was not so strong as I had thought at the airport.

-- My name is Roberts -- he said, extending his hand towards me and looking me in the eye. I could not decide whether he was ignoring my comment or he was following a plan, as if he had thought this conversation beforehand.
-- Nice to meet you -- and I did the nice thing meeting his hand half way across the table and telling him my name, as the polite boy I am. Then I turned my attention to my plate and bit again the toast, deliberately.

--Perhaps not as much as you would thing -- I stared back blankly
-- The coincidence, I mean -- he grinned again. Then leaned to the side and from somewhere pulled out a fat collection of paper, loosely folded in three, as in a letter. Carefully not to spill them, he let them in front of me.

 07/13/97
>>nagt9005: This weekend I am going for a Korn concert.
>>U-688: ...
>>U-688: I don't like Korn.
>>nagt9005: xD
>>nagt9005: that's all right grandpa.

Confused, I leafed through the rest

 11/30/97
>>U-688: Welcome back, I was looking for another fixer :P
>>nagt9005: I've been to NASA man!
>>U-688: Are you changing job?
>>nagt9005: Nah, no way man. We are collaborating with another agency
>>nagt9005: We got to participate on a meteo satellite.
>>nagt9005: Which is going to measure radiated energy from the clouds.
>>nagt9005: we got to see the Launch!
>>U-688: You have been to a launch? How is it?
>>nagt9005: Well, actually ... like on the TV, just louder.

-- I do not get it... this are... chat files?-- abía I had no problems recognizing my old internet nickname, but I could not pinpoint the chats themselves. Fuck, if dates were back to 1997, what the hell was I going to remember?
-- Don't you remember the nickname nagt9005?-- I was still blank. Mr. Roberts was staring at me. No grin now. -- Do you remember Napster?-- 
I could feel the pins slowly getting pushed home in my head, click after click. Finally an image popped out. The same man sitting in front of me, 12 years younger, with a Manowar t-shirt and a large beer on one hand and a bigger grin. A name was bubbling out on my throat, not unlike that cheap beer he had been holding
-- You are... ! --
-- Mr. Roberts -- Mr. Roberts cut me short, he was making a habit out of it.

-- We got to talk-- the grin came again -- I have a lot to tell you. We'll meet on the flight back-- and with these words he stood up, headed to the entrance door and then I lost sight of him. I was pinned in place, as confused as surprised. I looked down, next to my plate, to the file, now a little messed up...

Chapter 1: Improbable encounters

Threading your way through a sea of people who does not really care much about being shoved, pushed and stepped on irritates me. On top of it, once you step out of the plane in an unknown airport, you have to pay attention to all those signs that, eventually, will take you to an exit... or a police search. This does not help much when you are wading through all that people pulling a trolley. Thus I rather use a messenger bag as hand luggage.

So, there I was, after leaving the crowded terminal behind. I managed to get almost to the exit by means of elbowing soft sides whenever they were in front of me, usually looking at overpriced ties or checking the possibility of giving some years of their life on a food stand. I was, at that moment, reasonably happy with my progress and, with the exit in sight, I pressed on.

From nowhere, a fairly robust individual, with thick frames and unbelievable speed cut me off. The crash made me stagger, almost bent over by the weight my bag, balance overboard. The man turned around, looked at me deadpan behind his also thick lenses and, while holding me by the arm said -- I´m sorry, are you ok? -- with a strong American accent.
 -- Yes, excuse me -- I then moved around him and continued walking. Social conventions prevent you from splitting the head of such people open with a one of those nice chromed bins. In any case, arguing is fruitless, so I believe on cutting these discussions short. You will live longer.

I hate work trips, mostly because one cannot do things at his own pace. You have to follow what the work dictates, On the other hand there are taxis. When I arrived at the hotel, I took, as usual, some minutes to take the room in, wash myself a little, take a look at the emergency exits and generally have a look around. I took my jacket off and fished around in the pockets for those small pieces of paper you collect when you fly, refunds be coming...

A nice hotel room

I settled the travel bag onto the luggage tray and while rummaging around I turned the tv on, just to have some company. The trick is just push buttons randomly until some channel is tuned in.
 

Get some company by turning on the TV

I took my wash kit out and after fumbling with the switches (all lights on, but the working principle is just like the tv, push around) I had a look at the bathroom and hung the wash kit behind the door. I exchanged my shirt for a cotton t-shirt and I was ready for dinner.


As I crossed the reception area, I looked with evil satisfaction at the faces of the newcomers, who looked tired and weighted down by their luggage and I continued without stopping, head for the bar. Outside, darkness was settling in and dinner was very much on my menu. Another good thing from work trips is club class. That special area reserved for people who is on the move, has money or had it and are on a honeymoon and got optimistic about their budget. The concept is, that if you pay enough, you can eat at any time, whatever you might wish and sometimes drink too. Therefore, once at the operational area and armed with a plate I went for the free buffet and, flaking the happy chaps in suits who had found the drink bar, I found myself a nice quiet place. Unfortunately I do not get that treat of having a club class reservation often and I was reflecting on it as I sat. On the one side, that kind of add on is more expensive (sensibly so) and then again, the person doing the reservation is not me, so you might expect a little less motivation for extra comfort. This time I had been lucky, there was no other type of reservation available

Excuse me, is this seat taken? I looked up from my toast and cheese operations and I  faced a vaguely familial face.