A Quick Snort

A Quick Snort

The ladies toilet in the First Class British Airways lounge in London is a posh place; pre-flight massages on request if you want.  However, I was not prepared for the unexpected and curious noise I heard from the neighbouring stall. 
I was washing my hands when I noticed her emerge. She was wearing designer clothes, immaculate make up and kitten heels, so I felt conspicuous in my jeans and sweatshirt. I caught her eye in the mirror. Then I realised what the noise was.  She had a very light dusting of white powder on the top of her upper lip.
         ‘Well, dahling,’ she pouted at the mirror wiping her lip, ‘one’s got to prepare for the long haul flights.  Best way I know to handle the jetlag.  Fancy a toot yourself?’ She groped about in her handbag.
Caught off guard by her generosity I mumbled, ‘No thanks,’ and hit the button on the hand-dryer. I watched her dab at her lipstick in the corners of her mouth, flick her narrow skirt and stalk out the room.
This woman, who left me feeling quite inadequate, was at least in her mid-seventies, old enough to be my mother.
         
         Eight hours later I followed her through USA Immigration in New York. I wondered whether the fingerprint machines had cocaine detectors.  When the customs beagle dog sniffed my bag I tensed. I noticed she was relaxed.. The dog ignored her. I tried to take no notice of her but waiting for my bag to arrive she walked up to me.
         ‘Business or holiday?’
         ‘Business. I’m giving a speech.’ I’d fallen into the trap of too much information.
         ‘Interesting. On what?’
         I felt her gaze over my worn trainers.
         ‘Courage. How leaders need to have courage.’
         ‘Really,’ she stared at me, ‘and your experience is?’