I really hate you AT&T.
Once finally off the plane, and wandering through the terminal, I tried to call Nook.
Unfortunately, as previously mentioned, AT&T has pathetic coverage for an airport of this magnitude and the signal was rarely present, and even when it was, I couldn’t actually get a call out.
Every time I tried to dial, I’d be greeted by a AT&T robovoice telling me that my phone was not authorised to make calls. Curiously, I could send and receive SMS messages, and it worked earlier that day, and again later, but such is the nature of their “service” at that airport.
My frustration intensifying, I located the business class lounge for the airline I was travelling on, grabbed a quick glass of red wine (nerves needed steadying), and sat down.
Thankfully, the lounge had WiFi for customer use, and I proceeded to start things up for one of the most important phone calls of my life, but also one of the most peculiar.
You see, in order to call Nook, I had to use Skype. But trusting a public WiFi network, even with the allegedly encrypted Skype traffic, wasn’t something I wanted to risk.
As I logged in to my MacBookAir, I fired up my VPN to a server back home. That done, I started Skype, and promptly called Nook. The more technically inclined amongst you will realise that I’ve created a nasty latency ridden route for packets to travel, albeit secure.
Even though I was only a few hundred kilometres from Nook, my packets had to travel about half the planet to get to her. But, at least I was able to talk to her, hear her voice, and let her hear mine.
However, it wasn’t quite that simple. As I was sitting in the middle of a very busy airport lounge, and this conversation topic really wasn’t for sharing with others, I had to find a creative way to have a private, yet highly public, phone call.
Earphones provided part of the answer; no one else could hear Nook.
As for my end of the conversation, well, the design of the Air helped somewhat with this.
The microphone is built in to the lid of the laptop, next to the camera. Since the Air is an insanely light computer, I was actually able to quite comfortably hold it up with one hand and speak with the lid of the laptop resting upon my upper lip.
This created a sound-shield for anyone else being able to hear what I was saying, if it did look a bit like I was licking my computer to those around me. Yes, I got quite a few odd stares.
As soon as I had Nook on the phone, I told her how much I loved her, and indeed, how much I wanted “us” as well. But I also told her that as of that moment, she had not done anything she could not undo.
This was not a decision to make lightly, nor to make in the heat of the moment. There were huge, no, vast, implications and it was important to me that Nook understood what that would mean.
She said she did, and that she knew what she was about to do, and what she was getting into.
There were a lot of “logistics” for she and I to sort out so that we could be “us” -- but there would be time enough for that later.
Nook was at work, so she wasn’t really able to speak freely. The topic of our conversation was obviously quite sensitive, and no one in her workplace knew a thing about what was transpiring between the two of us. At least, not yet.
We spoke for about 20 minutes or so, as long as she could get away with. She said she was sure, she said she would not change her mind, she knew this is what she wanted.
I tried to contain my utter exhilaration over the possibility of Nook and Chair truly being Together, but it wasn’t easy. However, I was also keenly aware that more than once Nook had changed her mind in what she wanted and did not want with respect to our relationship -- yet every actual action she undertook which was counter previous decisions only brought us closer together, not once did it push us apart. She has consistently moved towards “us” - just as I have.
I still urged her to take things slowly, be calm and aware of the situation, her decision, and the coming storm that would accompany it. In true geek fashion, I’m pretty sure I even said she could still “command Z” and “undo” all of this. No one knew except she and I, and if she needed to change her mind, then it would only be me who was hurt.
She was certain she would not change her mind.
She was certain that she was ready for what would have to happen, soon.
And she was certain that Nook and Chair belonged together.
I’ve never doubted it for a moment.