At Schiphol arrivals was the man dressed in blue
His hat tipped
His brown loafers like mud paced the waiting area
A coffee steamed in his right hand
Two dozen roses swayed in anticipation in his left
'This will be so romantic' she said
'He's in the dog house' I said
'We'll see' said she
Twenty minutes had passed and no sign
Another beer then
We still have a couple of hours before takeoff
The man with the roses walks away
'Oh no' she said
'Stood up or wrong arrivals' I said
She laughed loud
Like Woody Woodpecker
Everyone turned and looked
I laughed
They laughed
She laughed
Longer and louder
The man is standing at another arrival
Looking anxious
He sips his coffee
Then places it down as Ride of the Valkyries plays loudly from his ringing phone

A few moments pass

The man strides back toward us
'Excited or angry?' she said
'I can't tell' I said
Caricatures stampede on through
Reunited with loved ones
The lonely figure of the man with the roses remains
Shoulders slumped, he slinks off

'Stood up then' I said
'Looks that way' she said

The man with the roses screams as he violently throws the bouquet into a bin

'I'm right again' I said
'You're always right' she said