Captain Ken led us towards the heart of the terminal rather than towards an exit. My height and white skin drew lot of attention from those we passed, but we were airline personnel walking quickly and with purpose; no one interfered with us.
Our destination became clear when we rounded a corner and the pilot's lounge came into view. I'd never been inside. Part of me was eager to peek ebhind that curtain and see what our illustrious pilots got up to when off duty, but mostly I just wanted to go to my hotel room and hide to process everything.
Ken got us inside easily enough. The pretty young door attendant checked his ID and barely glanced at us. We might as well have been luggage.
"Flight Captain Qiang, welcome home." She said with practice professional warmth. "I assume these are with you?"
She meant James and me.
Ken, apparently actually Qiang, confirmed we were his possessions and that was it. We entered into a comfortably furnished space. It was much larger than I'd have expected, with a bar located on one wall, complete with bartender. There was even a large skylight in the ceiling where some planes were visible taking off or landing.
One end of the room featured some private partitions that could be used for naps, I assumed.
Qiang dragged his rolling luggage toward one wall with what looked like cubbies from elementary school but larger. He parked his suitcase in an empty one and hung his hat and jacket on the corresponding hooks.
Seeing him in just his shirt, I realized he was actually in very good shape despite being at least forty. The scene back in the gate had worked me up a bit and I couldn't help but picture him shirtless.
"Stay here. Don't talk to anyone." He grumbled irritatedly. He left us by the cubbies to join a pair of other pilots I recognized at sight but didn't know personally.
James and I stood awkwardly side by side for several minutes while Qiang and his buddies drank and talked, laughing frequently. We didn't talk. We each had a lot on our minds.
A pair of pilots entered at one point and one of them placed his things in a cubby beside me, then stopped to look me over. He touched my hair, still pulled back tightly into a neat bun per company policies for female flight crew. I kept it too long to let it loose.
This unknown captain didn't seem inhibited in the slightest, rooting around my bun for the pins that held it together until it came apart and my hair fell in a flourish to the middle of my back.
I almost opened my mouth to ask him politely to leave me alone, but Qiang had said not to talk to anyone, and I didn't know how serious he was about that. I didn't know what to do so I just stood there, growing increasingly nervous as he combed his fingers through my hair and then sniffed it.
James noticed but he didn't interfere. He tried to pretend it wasn't happening.
I felt the man's hand on my lower back and I closed my eyes, praying he would just leave me alone.
That's when Qiang shouted something in Mandarin to the pilot touching me. I only knew about a dozen words and phrases in Mandarin so I didn't catch anything more than a "that thing" somewhere in the middle of what he said.
Hopefully it was something to save me.
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