I love telling this story because so few people have ever met and fallen in love with a porn star. Mine was gorgeous.

I first saw her while waiting to board my flight from LAX to New York. She was pacing back and forth like she’d been crying and was trying to calm herself down. You couldn’t not notice her because she was walking much too fast. You could tell she wanted everyone in the airport to see how upset she was. I assumed she was a model or an actress who’d gotten a bad break in LA and was still hoping to get discovered.

Once I boarded the flight and got comfortable in my seat, I heard a little commotion where the flight attendants were greeting the other passengers. I knew it was her.

“Back off,” she said to one of the female attendants. “I can smell your breath; you’re so in my face.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not…,” the flight attendant attempted to answer her.
“Just stand back. I have a right to my personal space.”

I’d never seen an insane person board a plane. It’s scary, but also entertaining.

I immediately texted Dan to tell him the flight would most likely be delayed because a deranged model was about to get kicked off the plane.

But that’s not what happened.
What happened was her seat was right next to mine.

I twisted my head toward the window so she would get the message that I had no intention of invading her space.
An announcement was made instructing everyone to find their seats.

“Oh! Here come the announcements!” the girl called out, “What is this, Walmart?”

It took me a second to make the connection that they make announcements at Walmart too.
A few minutes later, the flight attendant came back to ask us if we’d like mimosas or plain champagne

“You need to stand back. I’m not gonna say it again,” the girl said.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I’m just trying to get your drink order.”
“Fine. I’d like two mimosas, and keep them coming,” the girl said, and made a swirling downward motion with her finger indicating her drink should land on her tray.

The flight attendant nodded like she agreed it was for the best if the girl got drunk as soon as possible. Her sober personality was ruining it for everyone.

When it was my turn to order, I mumbled the words, “sparkling water please,” as quickly and inaudibly as possible, hoping to remain invisible, and turned my neck back around to fully face the window. But suddenly the girl needed to know where things were located on the plane.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but is this the charging outlet?. . . Again, so sorry but where’s the light? Are you cold? I’m so cold. How do you turn this fucking thing off?”

I reached up, turned off her air, smiled at her with no teeth, and stared straight ahead. I sat as still as humanly possible, but she needed so much attention I could feel her eyes pressing on me.

“I can’t tell you my name, but it’s nice to meet you,” she said and put out her hand for me to shake it.

 I wanted to be polite without encouraging her. She was trying so hard to show me she was a nice person in spite of her earlier behavior, but I sensed she could turn on me at any minute if I let my guard down.

“My name is Stephanie,” I said, lightly shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

Why did I give her my real name?

“I’m somebody who needs to be careful,” she said. “People are out of their minds, you know.”
“So it seems,” I said.

We sat in silence while I contemplated what steps I would have to take to move my seat. There was no way around the fact that I’d have to pass by her, which was completely out of the question. What if my leg touched her leg?

Then, out of nowhere, she tapped me on the shoulder, and said,

“I feel like you were seated next to me for a reason. Like God chose you to sit next to me.”

The truth is I believe in God. No matter how silly I know it sounds to certain relatives every time I say it, I believe in God. But I do not think he chose either of our plane seats.

Please don’t talk about God anymore, I silently prayed knowing how long a conversation like that could take.

And then she said,

“I just have to tell you, you have a beautiful energy.”

My head whipped toward her.

“Oh my God, thank you!” I said, reevaluating the entire scenario. That flight attendant may very well have been standing a little too close to her once I played it back in my mind. And I did seem to be calming her down with my energy.

“You’re hot, you know that, right?” she continued.
“Stop it. Me? You really think so? … really?  It’s just so not what I was thinking you were thinking. I mean, I’m flattered. But also very old.”
“Come on. You know you’re hot.”

I turned my whole entire body toward her, thinking what a fascinating person she turned out to be.

“I think it’s important to tell people they look good. No one ever told me I was pretty when I was growing up,” she said, downing her second mimosa and signaling for another one.

In her defense, the champagne flutes were deceivingly small, and she must have worked up quite a thirst back there at the gate.

“Well, just so you know, you are very pretty,” I said, touching her lightly on the arm. “You are beautiful, in fact. When I first saw you at the gate, I thought you were a famous model or an actress; I’m not kidding, that’s how pretty you are,” I said.
“My parents weren’t parents,” she said as the flight attendant gingerly placed another mimosa down on the girl’s tray, looked directly at me, terrified, and scurried away.

I tried not to look back at the attendant because it was obvious I was a traitor. My seatmate, who had berated that poor, sweet woman just minutes before, had now become a very close friend and confidant of mine. I should have at least rolled my eyes a little to act like I was just going through the motions of being friendly to my seatmate in order to remain alive, but my loyalty had switched.“That’s so sad,” I said to the girl the second the flight attendant was safely out of earshot.

“My life has not been easy. Not one person helped me. No one supported me.” she continued.  “I had to do everything on my own. But the truth is I am famous.”

She stood up to adjust something in the overhead bin. I noticed she had a Gucci belt bag tied around her very small waist. I had so many questions. Mostly about what she ate in a day. All in good time.

“I knew you were famous,” I said. “Have you been in anything I would have seen?” I asked her.
She laughed a little so I assumed she was VERY famous, but in a way that hadn’t trickled down to a middle-aged-plus white woman like myself.

“Wait! Are you someone my kids would know?” I asked, thinking she might be a singer. It was possible I had never heard her music, the same way I had never heard of Lizzo until that episode of South Park where they explained that body positivity was just Diabetes.

Another little laugh came out of her mouth.

“My kids are grown, so I’m kind of out of it when it comes to celebrities,” I prodded her. “Hold on. I know! Are you a Disney princess?” I asked, and I swear to God, she leaned over and hugged me.

“I love you,” she said.
“Oh my God! I love you too,” I said, although it didn’t feel 100 percent sincere yet.
“I’d rather not say why I’m famous,” she said. “Because right now you’re thinking about me in a certain way, but if I tell you, your whole opinion of me will change,” she said.
“Oh, I’m not like that at all,” I said. “Whatever you’re famous for, I’ll think it’s cool. Trust me.”
“I’d still rather not say,” she said, and I felt a whiff of cold air settle between us. I sensed things might turn ugly when a different flight attendant appeared ( a man this time) and asked what we’d like to order from the menu.

My seat mate picked up her menu and handed it to him.

“I don’t eat animals or any of this other stuff,” she said, as though he was trying to poison her.

“Me neither,” I whispered to her, trying to calm her down again.

“Alrighty, what would you like then?” he asked me.
“I’ll have the chicken,” I said.
The girl turned to look at me.
“I don’t know why I just ordered chicken,” I said. I was in a panic.
“It’s okay,” she laughed. “

When the flight attendant walked away, she said, “You really shouldn’t eat anything in America.”

“Nothing at all?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

“Not even popcorn?” I asked.
“Try not eating for a few days and see how much better you feel.”

“I mean, I try not to eat anything, but food gets in occasionally. Like chicken. I know our food supply has been tainted,” I said. “I have acid reflux, which is also called GERD. It’s probably due to all the Glyphosate. I think I’m very sensitive to it, but I find that I do well on most soups.”

I couldn’t stop talking knowing anything could happen at any moment to change her mood, and there was still so much to learn.

“Can I ask what you eat in a day? For example, what did you have for breakfast?” I asked. I was both curious and desperately trying to keep her distracted.

“Raw sea moss,” she said.
“Oh wow. I was not expecting that. So, just sea moss?” And Mimosas?
“Yup, I only eat sea moss. But mostly I don’t eat. Ever.”
“Huh. Well, I have to say, you have a perfect figure. Really extraordinary.”
That made her really laugh out loud. And then she leaned in and whispered in my ear,
“I’m an adult film star. There. Now you know.”
“No kidding,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could.

For some reason, that made me think she had COVID. I reached into my bag to pull out my hand sanitizer, but then I thought better of it. I’d wait until she went to the bathroom. She was right. though. My opinion of her did change. I’m ashamed to admit it, but it happened immediately. I’m afraid of porn. It feels like violence to me. I don’t know why. It might be all the yelling. And nudity.

“I’m famous,” she said again, “but I have no one in my life. Not one person. I’m all alone. I married into a very famous real estate family and now I’m in the middle of a horrible divorce. I’m sure you can guess the name of the family.”

“Does it start with a T?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Have you seen the movie, ____?”

She named a porno movie that I assumed went viral. I would tell you the name of the movie, but I don’t want to expose her. I would never do anything to hurt her. Everything about her life was too painful to imagine, and there was nothing I could do to help her. My heart was breaking for her, but all I could think about was Purell.

I guess I wanted her to know my life was hard too so I told her I have Glaucoma and occasional heart palpitations. I didn’t bother telling her I have high cholesterol and low Vitamin D.

“You  need stem cells. There’s a place on Madison Avenue called Next Health. Go there,” she said.

She ordered another drink. It was her fourth or tenth, but she wasn’t getting drunk. I wondered if porn stars were internally just plain different. Like they could withstand more things going into their bodies without feeling anything.
“I’m so sorry about your divorce,” I said.

And every decision you’ve ever been forced to make. I wish you had a better mother and I can’t even imagine what kind of a father. I feel so ashamed that my mom was so nice to me.

I almost put my hand on her arm again, but I didn’t.

“Do you think when we get back to New York, we could have lunch together? Maybe go for massages or something?”
“Of course,” I said, with no indication whatsoever how incredibly afraid I am of germs.
“I really love you,” she said.

“I love you too,” I said, and slowly turned my head.