We marched down the JFK airport hallways. The gates were spread far down the hallway. Our walk had turned into a sluggish march. We were two 19 year olds. Young adult men on our way to another country with our own money, bags, and itinerary. We were barely pulling it off. I was about to lose my mind. We passed restaurant after restaurant tortured by the sight of food. Neither of us had eaten in many hours due to poor planning and we didn’t have time to stop and sit down.

We became best friends very quickly after meeting during the second week of school. The first lecture class I went to, I put my head down on the desk and collided with yours.

Fast forward a few months, freshman spring break is approaching. We planned this trip months ago, a week on the Greek Islands. Somewhere in that time our minds agreed to not pack a lot for the trip.

Arriving at the airport felt like walking into the wrong class. I checked every sign we walked past. The arrows are always confusing because they are fixed on the ceiling. There should just be lights that illuminate your path on the floor.

Now we were moving through the terminals getting closer to our gates. You loved to walk on the magic carpets, even if that meant getting on, riding it all the way down, and backtracking to get to the bathroom.

Turning the final corner before our gate, we spotted a blue and yellow pretzel stand. The dimly lit letter’s read, Auntie Annes. We didn’t lock eyes but I knew you saw it. I froze, transfixed by the warm blue and yellow mixture. My gaze couldn’t leave the sign. Neither of us had eaten at or even seen an Auntie Anne’s since we were probably eight.

 A hard piece of plastic buckled my right leg, interrupting the trance. A woman, much taller than me, swore into the floor as her phone bounced on the hard terminal floor. She told me to “keep moving” before swearing once more while picking her phone up facedown on the floor. Her abstractly decorated red carry on item had hit the back of my knee at full airport walk speed. I couldn’t muster any words in response.  

I watched you emerge from behind me, transfixed by the blue and yellow beacon of nostalgia. We floated toward the stand, carried by an invisible magic airport carpet. Upon arrival, we both ordered the original pretzels. Mine came out first. A golden pretzel half dressed in wax paper to hold. I accepted the wrapped present with a big grin. My fingers sank into the warm touch of the pretzel like memory foam. I knew you wouldn’t mind my haste, so I sank my teeth into the pretzel.

You got yours a few seconds later and wasted no time. Our flight is in an hour or so. I watched your eyes close as you took the first bite. It didn’t take long for your big grin to match mine. We would always remember that.

“We’ve got another hour”

You were enamored with the golden pretzel so you seemed not to take notice. We wandered over to our gate and you left me there with a bottle of water and both of our carry on bags.

“I’ll be right back don’t move.”

I finished my pretzel with rapid satisfaction before crumbling up the wax paper and tucking it into the dark depths of my carry on. The plane was leaving in an hour. Everything that had to be done was done, so why was I worried. I sank into the black leather chair, unable to remember what I was thinking about before we got the pretzels. I took a sip of my water bottle into my chair I saw you coming back with a bucket of pretzel nuggets. I snorted laughing into my water bottle, causing a basketball sized splash of water to stain my pants. You plumped down next to me with that big dumb grin on your face. We continued to sit there laughing as we ate. I reminisced about rolling through the airport with my little transformers suitcase. You talked about how you would always shave all of the salt off the pretzel before you ate it. Why weren’t these stands everywhere?

Here we sat amongst so many other people pushing forward to make the next checkpoint. People hell bent on not missing what’s next. But we found a circle of haven in the surrounding chaos, and I couldn’t thank you enough for bringing me those pretzel nuggets.