Life Is A Runway

by Split Scimitar

The Girl on the Go

“Oh, thank goodness you’re awake.” A nurse says with a relieved smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright. Just exhausted.”

“For good reason. I’ll be right back with Dr. House. He’ll walk you through everything.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“I can’t believe you pushed yourself like that.” Rarity says sorrowfully as she strokes my left hand and arm.

“How long have I been here?”

“Just one night.”

“Did you stay here?”

“Yes. Except for earlier this morning. I went home and took a shower.”

“What time is it now?” I ask squinting at the room clock.

“9:41.”

“Oh cool. We didn’t lose too much time. As long as the doctor comes soon.”

A few moments later, Rarity starts crying.

“Hey, hey. I’m here. What are you crying for?”

“Are you seriously asking me that question?! You could’ve died! I almost lost you and you still have the nerve to ask why I’m crying??!!!”

Before I can answer, doctor and nurse enter the room.

“Good morning, Mr. Scimitar. Glad you’re finally back with us. Did you enjoy your nap?”

Chuckling, I respond with a, “it’s exactly what I needed.”

“Yes it was. And it’s a good thing your girlfriend over there called.”

Rarity and I immediately look over at each other. She starts blushing as I look back at the doctor.

“You had a HAPE: a high-altitude pulmonary edema.”

“I’m familiar with edemas.”

“Good, because this one could’ve killed you.”

“That bad, huh?”

“You were coughing up blood, your lungs were nearly filled to their brim with fluid, and had it not been for her quick thinking, you would’ve been a goner.”

“Okay.” I respond nonchalantly. “How long until I can get discharged?”

“Well, all your vitals check out, fluid accumulations have descended to much better levels, and I don’t have any major reason to hold you for additional observance. Let me talk to some of our staff, we’ll write a prescription for you, and you’ll be on your way.”

“Splendid.”

“By the way, on your flight over, did you notice any signs of a cabin pressurization failure?“

“No, actually. The masks didn’t deploy, I never really noticed much in the way of thinning air.”

“Okay. Well, our only reasonable explanation is that the cabin depressurized too rapidly. Nevertheless, please give us a moment and we’ll be right back with your final instructions.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Max, I… I know you wanted to see as much as you could, but how could you neglect to take care of yourself first and foremost?”

“I can’t really say. I guess I wanted to see as much as I could. I love Britain, and I know that if I stopped to breathe, we would have to cross off things to see, and I didn’t want that.”

“You’re just lucky you didn’t spend longer here. You had me scared half to death!”

“Sorry. I guess I got a little too overzealous.”

“A little?” She responds unamused.

“Only a little.”

“Okay.” Dr. House says as he returns, “everything is in order. Everything that was on your person when you were admitted has been given to Miss…”

“Rarity.”

“Rarity. Since you had an edema and the associated swelling, we’re prescribing Sildenafil, taken once a day until the swelling goes down completely. We’ve given you a week’s supply, since that’s how long we expect for everything to return to normal.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll be all good to go after the nurses take everything off and you sign your final paperwork.”

With that, the nurses remove all the devices and connections to the machines I’ve been on.

“Is my ability to drive affected?”

“Just for your own safety, avoid operating heavy machinery for at least the next 24 hours.”

“Is there a time I should take the Sildenafil?”

“No specific time, just one a day.”

“Okay.”

The nurses then finish taking everything off, I sign the paperwork, and after confirming the address to send the bill, Rarity hands me a new change of clothes, I head for the bathroom, and after emerging with a fresh look, Rarity and I emerge from the hospital, her arms wrapped around me.

“Can we go home? I want to take a shower.”

“Taxi!” Rarity calls. “TAXI!!!!!”

Another black cab rolls up, revealing a female driver, noticeable because I’ve never seen one before.

“Take us home!”

“Uh, madam I need an address.”

“Savile Row please.” I say on our behalf.

The rest of the ride proceeds uneventfully, but Rarity does not let my arm go. Not until I step into the shower does she finally release me.

After about 10 minutes in, I emerge fresh and feeling fresh.

“So, what do you want to do today?”

“Let’s stay in today. After everything we’ve been through.”

“Why? There’s so much of Britain to see. Granted, we won’t be able to see everything, since London traffic will just make travel a nightmare. I don’t want to hole myself up in here, and neither do you.”

“No, but I also don’t want you collapsing from exhaustion and sleep deprivation!”

“I slept like a baby in hospital. Now I can’t stay still.”

“But you need to rest, darling!”

“Rest? I got plenty of that on the airplane.”

*SLAPPED ACROSS THE FACE!*

“Alright then,” I say wiping the spit off my mouth, “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Max,” she says with a slight waver in her voice, “you know I don’t mean to take it that far, but I cannot tread this lightly. Max, you could’ve died!”

“I know. That doesn’t mean I can’t pick up the pieces and keep going. This is not a time to pause and wallow.”

“But I’m not wallowing, Max. You just don’t want to Take A Break!”

“Rarity, I know you mean well, and I have what I need to get better, but if I stay still, I will go insane from cabin fever, and I’ve been putting this off for a long time, but there is a more pressing issue to address right now.”

“And what would that be??”

“Do you like me?”

“What?”

“Do you like me?”

“Well,” she blushes, “of course I like you! Why else would I ask you to…”

“No, no.” I ask as I step closer to her. “Do. You. *Like.* Me?”

Her blush now overtaking her cheeks, she covers her face and starts to quiver.

“C’mon Rarity. You know you can be honest with me.”

“Stop Applejacking me!” She exclaims going red as a tomato.

“What? You know that my demands of honesty are because of my history of being lied to. No connection to Applejack at all.”

“Fine. Yes.” She replies removing her hands from her face. “I think you’re handsome!”

“Okay. That’s all I wanted to know. It’s not like you made it that obvious.”

“Of course not, darling.”

“Just the kiss mark, the extra affection, and your friends.”

“They ratted me out?”

“No. I kind of picked up on it.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Not really. I only guessed after putting two and two together. The tittering at Fluttershy’s birthday dinner, the random quips about you and me like everyone was a shipper on deck, and unfortunately for you, your immediate threats to digging up all the dirt on them.”

“Heh,” she blushes, “well, there you have it. I like you Max, and I think I want to go beyond where we are now.”

“I’m flattered, but my divorce isn’t final yet, and I’m pretty confident that I don’t want to get remarried.”

“I don’t care if you’re still married or separated. I just want you.”

More surprised than resistant, I take a deep breath to come up with the words I want to say.

“Rarity, I’m glad you feel the way you do. I don’t say that lightly. I just want you to know that there is simply too much on my plate for us to potentially start something like what you appear to suggest. If you do have a crush on me, I strongly advise and highly recommend you give it some time. If it’s me, they’ll disappear before you know it. I‘m not going to deny your feelings for me, because I’m honestly flattered that you feel that way about me. I’m just not ready to say yes or no, since I’m not even divorced yet.”

“Max darling,” the blush now spreading to her entire face, “I really do love you. You have an undying resolve that even I envy. You never fail to be there when I need you. You always treat me like a lady. You’ve done so much for us, and me especially. I mean, who else would drop everything to take me to Britain and France? Your generosity is enviable. Your spirit is unshakable, with some exceptions. You always make me feel regal. And you carry yourself so gallantly too. I almost envy you for it.”

Chuckling, I respond only with a, “you give me too much credit. I don’t carry myself proudly. Have you ever seen me complain? AJ and Pinkie would fight you on that. In my defense, me taking you to Europe from my view is technically a hire. I’ve been blessed with work that allows me to have quite a bit of free time. My spirit is by no means unshakable, you just haven’t been around to see me when I open up, or let my defenses down. Trust me, if you met me when I was at a lower point, you’d be out my life faster than…”

“Stop it, Max. I know you’re on eggshells about what’s happening with Rosalina, and I know how dangerous it is for me to admit my feelings for you. I just wanted you to know before it was too late. You make me feel more than special. I want you to know those feelings are returned.”

“Well, if you don’t want me to go out, would you like to watch tv and, oh, I don’t know, cuddle/chill/spoon?”

“Oh, I haven’t felt the touch of a man in so long.” She replies almost weakly as I fiddle with the remote.

After selecting a series we both find interesting on Netflix, we both curl up the couch, despite the outside low being a considerably warm 28°C/82°F. In fact, despite the OAT, we have a fan blowing on us. Rarity all curled up in my arms is almost too cute to cuddle, until she starts dozing off or even checking her phone, which doesn’t occur until about 6 or 7 episodes in.

Nevertheless, when we call it a night, I decide to take my first of 8 Sildenafil pills so that I can sleep down any remnant swelling or internal fluid accumulation.

When I emerge from the bathroom all ready for bed, Rarity slides into her side and falls asleep quite quickly. Even though I just took my medication, I lie down next to Rarity, and just before I fall asleep for the night, I give her a gentle kiss on the side of her head as a thank you for her support and understanding, and to see if it’ll induce some sweet dreams.

---

“Dear sir, I hope this letter finds you in good health and in a prosperous position to give wealth to some people like me, y’already said it. See, that’s my future wife you decided to…”

“Shit.”

“Signed, Spikey Wikey.”

---

When I wake up, I make sure not to wake Rarity as I head for the shower. Glad I was able to keep to myself last night, I step into the shower and try to solve last night’s dream. I ain’t no Joseph, and we’re certainly not in the Faroe Islands (bad joke, I know), but this dream is pretty straightforward.

I’m not religious, and I wasn’t raised in a strongly religious household, but my heavily parochial educational background simply intervened. Whether or not this is me being cautious I’m fairly certain it is. So in my silent unnerved shower, I half-heartedly but intentionally whisper, “Lord, Show Me How to Say No To This.”

I like Rarity, probably as much as she likes me, subtracting an approximation of the factor that having a crush on me may have, but I don’t feel comfortable doing anything while Rosalina and I are still legally married.

When I get dressed, I take our tickets to Last Night of The Proms and put them on the kitchen counter, where it won’t be a problem to find them. Since we’re leaving tonight, and we didn’t buy any groceries, I’m gonna swallow a hard pill and take an even bigger L and have Little Chef. Oh wait a minute. Little Chef took the L. They’re all closed now.

When Rarity comes into the kitchen, she shows me some extra affection and pulls me to the couch, turning on the Telly and reclining across the couch, patting the couch next to her so she can rest her head on my lap.

“Morning, Rarity. Sleep well?”

“Indeed I did. Thanks for the goodnight kiss.”

“Of course. You were so tired and exhausted. Plus realization of what transpired kind of hit me too. Yeah, I was hospitalized for an edema, no big deal.”

Rarity rolls her eyes at that statement, to which I continue, “but we pulled through. I acknowledge it happened, and my hospital bill shouldn’t be that high. Though, was I in the ER?”

“Yes. To remove your accumulated fluid.”

“Well, shit. Looks like I’ll have to temporarily raise my rates.”

“Darling! It’ll be fine. You’ll pull through. It’s not like you had a cardiovascular incident.”

“Just like my dad.” I say with a tinge of Vietnam flashback.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it like that, I promise!”

“Don’t worry about it. What we should worry about is breakfast. The one place I wanted to try is closed.”

“What’s that, darling?”

“Little Chef.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard of them.”

“Well, if they went into admin, that should say it all.”

“Where should we go?”

“I don’t know. The last time I was in Europe was when I bought this house. An old friend of mine from Camulodunum was kind enough to meet me and show me around properly.”

“Camulodunum?”

“Colchester. Try and keep up with my Roman… just kidding. That and Londinium are all of Roman Britain I can remember.”

“Anyway, do you want to just find some random place that looks good?”

“Why not? Explore London a little. We don’t have to be at the Albert Hall until 18:00.”

“That gives us a whole day to see what we haven’t seen in London yet.”

“Do you want to go back to Savile Row?”

“I’ll walk there again. I don’t think I’ll want to buy anything though.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to. Savile Row is mostly men’s clothes. I’d want you to save for Champs Elysées, if you can pass for someone of culture and status. Most people on Champs Elysées won’t even give you the time of day unless you look like a billionaire.”

“Aren’t you one?”

“No comment. Whether I am or not, I have never passed for one.”

“Really?”

“So I’ve heard. When I went, I never walked Champs Elysées, just on a coach tour.”

“What did you do in Paris?”

“Quite a few things. Eiffel, Arc, Louvre, Notre Dame, Sacré-Cœur, and Place de la Concorde. Outside of Paris, I went to Omaha Beach and walked on D-Day shores, Mont St. Michel, and Cathédrale Chartres.”

“Wow, you did a lot! How much of it do you remember?”

“Most if not all. It was quite a lot to take in, especially because that week we were there was a week of cold and rain between heatwaves. Literally left Europe as it got really hot.”

“Lucky.”

“You know, we can talk all day and still not make a decision about breakfast.”

“Well, do you want to go now?”

“Do you want brunch or something else? It’s late enough that we could just wait for all other restaurants to open.”

“Let’s wait it out. I don’t need a full English breakfast. It’s not my style.”

“But it is mine. Yet, I’m not desperate. For some reason, I get a heart attack thinking about eggs for breakfast.”

“Darling, your obsession with what will give you a heart attack, will give you, a heart attack.”

“Oh relax. My diastolic is low. I’m not Cameron Frye, constantly clenched and waiting for the moment to snap and go absolutely bonkers. It’s my systolic to worry about, since all the emotional strain of the divorce is doing a number on me.”

“Max, can you please stop jumping to death like it’s an easily predictable conclusion? I’m getting sick of it.”

“Sorry, but this is part and parcel of dealing with me. You’re either gonna have to deal with it, or send me on my merry way. You want to use my McLaren?”

“I don’t care. As long as you don’t do anything reckless.”

“Well, let me run it to make sure nothing’s wrong. I’ll use it next time.”

A quick yelp search reveals a nice brunch place in Greenwich, just outside the Royal Observatory. With that short a distance, I ought to use the McLaren.

After I fire up the very loud race car, I have Rarity get seated so I can open the garage. Doing so, we make an exit and close the garage behind us, making quite an impression on our street.

Flicking paddles isn’t quite the same as kicking a clutch and throwing a lever, but I enjoy the experience as we power through moderate city rush, arriving at an opportune time, seeing a large group of buses I assume heading straight for the Prime Meridian.

Getting seated, Rarity to my surprise orders an Eggs Florentine while I stick to my usual/expected Full English, complete with black pudding and a side of Marmite on toast.

When the orders are placed, Rarity and I pick up on our previous conversation.

“Where else should we go? We just need to be back in London by 16:00.”

“Well, since we’re here, let’s go visit the Royal Observatory. And, if time allows, what about Shakespeare’s Globe? I think those are the only big sights left.”

“That’s fine. I’ll just want to change before we head over there. No way am I going to park either car over there though.”

“No no no no, of course not.”

“Glad we’re both on the same page.”

Our food comes quicker than we expect, digging in without much more talking. Apparently we were hungrier than either of us expected.

When we make our way out, we decide to just walk to the Royal Observatory. There is quite a bit here that interests me, such as the Prime Meridian and the official UTC/GMT/Zulu time keeper, but Rarity takes interest in the building itself. Onward to Shakespeare.

To make sure the car is used adequately, I take the long way round and drive by The O₂, One Canada Square, and actually drive across Tower Bridge.

Snagging a lucky spot less than a block away, I park and carefully help Rarity get out, since she’s street-side. I snap a few pictures of her here along with a selfie of us.

Only a few minutes here, I decide to go for a leisure cruise before returning home, the petrol in the tank down to where the car says “please refuel.”

Checking to make sure I have a jerry can, I put it next to the car to remind myself about fuel (whenever I return to London next) and head inside.

With about an hour and a half until we ought to leave, I fall into bed and sigh.

“Okay. 90 minutes, nap time?”

“No darling. Hold me.”

“Okay! Since you’re being so straightforward. Just take your shoes off. House rules.”

“Of course darling.” She says slipping them off and dropping them at the door. When she jumps onto the bed, she slides up onto me and then turns her back. I guess we’re spooning, probably because we didn’t last night. No matter, I’ll oblige if it makes her happy.

As she does things on her phone, I be the big spoon with an extra dose of touchy-feely to see how she’ll react. Squirming ever so slightly, I grin evilly and adjust my grip on her so I don’t accidentally touch her breasts, but as she responds to an email, she rubs one of her feet along my lower leg, which makes me retract in surprise.

“Did I scare you darling?” She asks half-sinisterly.

“I didn’t expect you to do that especially since we’ve both been over where we stand.”

“Of course, but can’t I be just a little… playful?”

“Sure. But if you’re going to do this, then you’ll be in for a real treat.”

Blushing intensely, Rarity adopts a semi-foetal position by curling up and setting her feet atop my knees. Half-ready to sleep, I set an alarm for 17:00.

When the alarm goes off, Rarity is full on little spoon, hands joined together with mine and our legs intertwined. As much as I enjoy it, it is time for us to get changed and make our way over to the Albert Hall.

It’s about a 50 minute walk, so after I spiffy up, I put on my pride and joy, a pilot uniform, hat included. My own personal touch to the uniform is one of my most prized non-aviation articles of clothing. Back when I was young and had less of a filter, I, in the spirit of Pinoy pride, got a track jacket of the Philippine flag as a gift. Knowing what I know about Last Night of The Proms, I know I’ll be fulfilling some dumb dormant fantasy of being able to display myself patriotically without fear of negative feedback. I’ll just be blending in with the crowd.

When I slip the jacket on and smooth it out over the uniform, Rarity looks at me and smirks, which devolves into poorly suppressed laughter.

“My goodness Max!”

“I don’t have a flag to wave, so this is where I make up for it.” I say as I grab the tickets and place them in my shirt.

“Oh alright then.” She grumbles still just as confused.

An OAT of 19° is perfect for both of our choices of outerwear. Naturally, we take our time but know that if we dawdle too much, we may be squeezing through to get to our seats. Nevertheless, when we reach the Albert Hall, the place is teeming with taxis, ride shares, and potential patrons.

I try and snap a picture, but Rarity beats me to the punch by taking a selfie. I obligatorily join her before we present our tickets and head for our seats.

“You weren’t kidding. We’re right under the orchestra.”

“Row 1, darling.”

“You didn’t have to do this. I haven’t touched my clarinet in years.”

I take a look around the hall and make note of many a large number of flags. This is gonna be a good program.

Much of the first half is dedicated to Monty Python, as they’re celebrating the series. In fact, the concert opens to the Holy Grail Overture. That sets the tone as many Francophiles in the audience wave their tricolores.

I’m not too familiar with Monty Python, so I can’t say I’m a particular fan of many of the pieces, though I definitely recognize a lot of them.

The first half of the concert ends with a sing-along of “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.” Rarity then uses the bathroom while I purchase a drink to keep my mouth from going dry.

When Rarity returns, we both sit down and take in the Albert Hall fulfilling its purpose as a concert hall. I played Walt Disney Concert Hall right after graduating high school, so it was a perfect goodbye to my days as a band geek.

---

Soon, the concert resumes, and in perfect fashion.

“This program is getting silly. Surely you weren’t expecting this: The Fillydelphia Philadelphia Fillies Phillies will be in town for a set of matches with the Boston Red Sox next week at Wembley. And now for something completely different.”

A perfect nod to America, the iconically patriotic back half kicks off, starting with Jerusalem. Already the program is out of its usual order.

Following Jerusalem is Fantasia on British Sea-Songs, inconsistent in appearance but making a fortunate appearance this year.

In the wake of Fantasia, the crowd joins with flags and flashlights for an oddly serene sing-along of Auld Lang Syne. While I know the traditional lyrics, a different set of lyrics come to mind, humorously trying to sing both parts simultaneously.

Then, Rule, Britannia! begins, and all the union jacks fly. Rarity and I side-hug and rest our heads on each other, enjoying our surroundings of British patriots bleed their red, white and blue.

As the patriot cheers subside, I feel academic all of a sudden. Yes, the unofficial national anthem of England, popularized academically at Yale, and a staple of such celebrations of accomplishment and academic grandeur in Canada, the Philippines, and the United States. Now everybody’s bobbing.

A single kazoo or similar noisemaker triggers lots of laughter from the hall, myself included. Poor Rarity however is unfortunately not in on the context.

🎶“Land of Hope and Glory,
Mother of the Free.
How shall we extol thee,
Who are born of thee?

Wider still and wider,
Shall thy bounds be set.
God, who made thee mighty,
Make thee mightier yet!
God, who made thee mighty,
Make thee mightier yet!”🎶

🎵“Land of Hope and Glory!
Mother of the Free!
How shall we extol thee,
Who are born of thee!

Wider still and wider,
Shall thy bounds be set!
God, who made thee mighty,
Make thee mightier yet!!
God, who made thee mighty,
Make thee MIGHTIER YET!!”🎵

We both join the applause and then look into each others’ eyes, smiling in enjoyment of the finality of this wonderful display of patriotism that is not limited to Britain. Amongst the crowd, I manage to spot 19 different flags.

“It’s been a pleasure conducting here tonight. But unfortunately, our concert master sits next to Squilliam Fancypants Fancyson over here.”

Everyone laughs.

“You wouldn’t want her to go home tonight having to live with the fact that she got drowned out by some mediocre clarinet player, do you?”

The crowd responds with a mixture of laughs, boos, and noisemakers. I elect to take the former two options, since I don’t have any of the latter.

🎵🎶“Land of hope and glory!
Mother of the free!
How shall we extol thee,
Who are born of thee?🎵🎶

🎵🎶Wider still and wider!
Shall thy bounds be set!
God who made thee mighty,
MAKE THEE MIGHTIER YET!🎶🎵

God who made thee mighty,

🎵🎵“MAKE! THEE!”🎵🎵

Swallowing my pride, I look over and tap Rarity on the shoulder. Drawing off the energy of the crowd, I lean in and lay my lips on hers perfectly in time with the last two beats.

🎵“MIGHTIER!” 🎵

🎶”YET!”🎶

Fireworks in Hyde Park, Hillsborough County, Dundee, Salford and Swansea, along with the cheers, whistles, and collective patriotic pride of the crowd in the Albert Hall, are the perfect background noise for this kiss of a lifetime. Let’s go to France.