Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi

It was on her fifteenth birthday that Elizabeth first met Rhys Williams. … Rhys got permission from the headmistress to take Elizabeth out to dinner. They got into Rhys’s car and started heading toward the airport.
“Neuchâtel is the other way,” Elizabeth said.
Rhys looked at her and asked innocently, “Who said we were going to Neuchâtel?”
“Where are we going?”
“Maxim’s …”
They flew to Paris in a private jet, and had a superb dinner.
-- Bloodline, Sidney Sheldon

Mom was around 14 years old when she clandestinely read Sidney Sheldon in bad light in her older cousin’s room.

For some reason, the above passage stayed with her over the years as the epitome of romance. Nothing else about the book was worth recalling, until the day dad casually asked, “Want to go out to brunch?”

“Not to Udupi again!” groaned mom. “If you want dosa, I can make it at home. I don’t understand why you like going there.”

“Actually,” said dad, “I was thinking we could fly out to Sedona for brunch.”

Mom’s clutched her heart and stared at dad open-mouthed.

“We can eat at the airport and be back in about three hours,” he said.

Refraining from asking, “How much is this brunch going to cost?” and killing even the slightest hint of romance, mom silently dressed the kids, and the family drove to the airport one morning to fly a 100 miles away for orange juice and croissants.

“Hmm, this plane is smaller than our car,” thought mom, as she buckled the children into the back seat. She watched dad fiddle with the instruments and noted the beads of sweat running down his neck prior to takeoff. As the airplane soared into a cloudless sky, mom tried to recall long-forgotten verses from the Hanuman Chalisa.

“We should’ve brought Terri along,” she muttered, anxious to leave no loose ends on terra firma.

The humans got a Google Earth glimpse of their neighborhood as they flew over it. “See? Our house is the only one without a pool in the backyard,” the children noted.

Less than 10 minutes in the air, the humans encountered their first air pocket. As the single-engine plane bobbed in the wind, mom had a doubt.

“So, if the propeller breaks down for any reason, we’re screwed, right?” she asked dad.

“Yup, pretty much,” he replied calmly.

With that doubt dispelled, and their lives in dad's capable hands, mom and the kids soon found themselves lulled to sleep for the next hour by the drone of the engine and the warm sun beating down on them.

Midway through a dream involving a faceless Rhys Williams and Top Gun Tom Cruise, mom awoke with a start to find that Kuki had thrown up in the backseat.

“I don’t feel so good,” the child exclaimed, as mom wiped the vomit with her shirt.

“Me neither,” thought mom, who was now left wearing a tank top that showed off her flab and her bra straps.

Landing shortly thereafter, the humans relaxed at the airport café, soaking in the glorious weather and scarfing down French fries. With their cell phones out of service and no television for distraction, mom’s reverie was interrupted only by the tinkle of tableware and the sound of people chattering.

“If we weren’t moving to India, we should move here,” she thought, amazed as always by the quiet calm of her surroundings, the politeness of the locals and the cleanliness around her.

An hour or two later, dad revved up the engine, and the humans soared toward the sun to return to their life of weekend laundry, Wii and television.

8,500 feet above sea level, mom looked at dad in the pilot’s seat and idly wondered what it would be like to fly to Paris for dinner someday.

Considering what it would cost, Maxim’s better have a substantial vegetarian menu.