“I think the bathroom door says vacant. We could make this thing official right now.” As if by divine intervention, the flight attendant stopped next to our seats and leaned over the cart. “Hi folks, any snacks or drinks?” “How’s it going?” Frankie smiled at her. “I’ll do a Coke and”—he took a second to look at all his options—“the white cheddar popcorn. Please.” Before I could tell the attendant my own choices Frankie spoke up again. “And the same for my fiancée.” “Not his fiancée,” I quickly corrected, shooting him a glare with a playful shove to the shoulder. “Just proposed,” he added.
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