You gotta love planes and their inevitable delays, I sighed to myself.

              I'm standing outside one of the airport’s many restaurants with sandwich in hand, wondering what to do for the next three hours. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, but unfortunately, this time I was on my own. Spotting a book store, my mood brightens and I stuff the sandwich in my bag. Maybe I can get away with reading in there the whole time.

    The store’s interior is welcoming, with several people milling about either rustling through magazines or scanning the shelves. I resign myself to the sale table seeing as the pocket money my parents gave me for the trip is almost gone. I shift through countless cheap romances and politicians’ biographies. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot something gold. Glancing over, I see a golden Asian lung sprawled across a soft red paperback. Looking closer, I see the title just between the dragon’s front feet.

 ‘The Dragon King: A Collection of Korean folk tales’. It’s worth a shot. As I reach for it, a hand slides under mine. Looking up, I find myself gazing into dark eyes. The boy looks about my age, maybe a little older. His black hair contrasts with his pale skin, hanging slightly over those deep eyes. His full lips are gently spread in a shy smile.

“Did you want this?” he asks, his voice carrying a slight accent that’s vaguely familiar.

“Oh, n...no. It’s okay. You had it first,” I reply hastily.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. The cover looked interesting, but I can find something else pass the time.”

Th boy picks up the book, still looking at me. “How long do you have to wait?”

“Three hours. Flight delay,” I explain with a shrug.

“Me too.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.” I hesitate. “This may be strange and I normally wouldn’t do this, but the boredom will kill me. Do you want to hang out until it’s time for our flights?”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me.

“I’m sorry, that was weird. I’m a complete stranger and for all you know I’m completely crazy,” I say quickly, ready to run away in embarrassment.

Suddenly, his smile comes back even wider. “Maybe a little crazy, but I may be just as crazy. I wouldn’t mind. I was actually getting lonely so company would be great.”

“Oh,” I smile. Sticking out my hand, I say, “My name’s _______, by the way.”

He accepts my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Park Yoochun.”

“Park Yoochun. I like the sound of that.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. What is it? If you don’t mind me asking,” I say, wary of offending my new friend.

“Korean.”

“Really? I’m taking Korean this year. They just introduced it at my school,” I say, realizing his accent echoes that of the Korean teacher I met during scheduling.

“Cool,” Yoochun smiles. “I’m actually going there now.”

“Is your family there?”

His smile falters slightly. “No, they’re staying here in the U.S.”

“Then why are you going?” I ask, confused.

“I got recruited by a music company there. I’m going to be a singer,” he says, puffing his chest out a little.

“That’s so cool! Wait, how old are you?”

“16.”

“That is so weird. I am too!”

“Were you born before June?”

I lift an eyebrow and slowly say, “No. Why?”

“Don’t worry,” Yoochun laughs. “I’m not being creepy, promise. I’m going to give you a head start on your Korean.”

“Thanks,” I say happily.

“No problem. So, if you have a guy friend who is older than you, you call him ‘oppa.' Okay?”

“Oppa,” I repeat slowly.

His smile widens. “Good. Try it out. Say my name and add oppa to the end.”

I smile shyly. “Yoochun oppa.”

“Great! You learn fast. Out of curiosity, why are you taking Korean?”

I shrug. “I think it sounds pretty and I didn’t want to take the other languages. Yoochun oppa?”

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you going to buy the book?”

Yoochun looks down, realizing he still has his hand on the book. “Oh, yeah. Give me a minute and then we can go do something else. Arrasso? It means something like ‘all right’ or ‘understand.'”

I nod.

“Want something to eat?” I ask after he buys the book and we walk out of the store. “I have a sandwich we can share. It’s big enough for both of us.”

“Sure. Should we find some place to sit down?”

I look around. “How about over there?” I point to an empty bench by a large window with a view of the runway.

“Works for me.”

    As we sit down, I take out the sandwich and unwrap it, carefully breaking it and handing Yoochun the slightly larger piece.

“Thanks. So,” he says after swallowing a huge bite. “I didn’t get a chance to ask. Where are you going?”

“I’m heading home. I flew out here to visit my aunt with my grandmother. My aunt got sick a few days ago so my grandmother had to stay to take care of my cousins.”

“Oh. I hope she gets better soon.”

“Thanks. It’s nothing serious.”

    We fall into silence, unsure of where to go from there, but it doesn’t last long. We’re curious, bored teenagers. Within minutes, we’re asking about each other’s lives, dreams,likes and dislikes; essentially anything. Yoochun tells me stories of Korea and his adjustments to living in America while I tell him about the exploits of my crazy family. Before we know it, it’s almost time for our flights.

“We’d better go, ______. We don’t want to miss our flights and have to stay here longer,” Yoochun says, sounding reluctant to leave.

I glance the clock over the nearby door. “So it is,” I say sadly. “Thanks for keeping me company.

“Thank you,” he smiles, giving me a hand up. “_______?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a phone number or an email address or something?" Yoochun gives me a shy smile. "I’d like to keep in touch, if it’s all right. I had fun with you today and it’d be nice to have a friend to talk to since I won’t know anyone when I get to Korea.”

I smile wide. “Of course. I don’t have a phone yet, but I have an email. Hang on.” Digging in my bag, I find my sandwich receipt and quickly scribble my name and email on it. Handing it to him, I tease, “Guard this with your life.”

He takes it and gives a jaunty salute. “Yes ma’am. I don’t have a phone or an email, but I’ll email you as soon as I get one.”

“Flight 254 to Seoul, South Korea. Rows one through ten boarding now,” a crackly voice says over the intercom.

“Gotta go,” Yoochun says, grabbing up his bag and giving me a quick hug. “Have a good flight,” he yells, running backwards to keep me in view, waving all the way.

I wave right back at him. “Same to you! Good luck with being a singer! You owe me a concert when you’re a big shot, arrasso oppa?”

“Arrasso! Oppa won’t forget!” He gives a final wave before being forced to turn around to run when he almost bumps into someone.

I laugh, shaking my head and getting ready for my own flight. As I pick up my bag, the dragon king book falls out of it. Surprised and touched, I look up to yell 'thank you', but he's already gone. I laugh again. Even if I never see him again, I hope he makes it big. Good luck, Yoochun oppa.

Little did I know then I would end up working for him six years later.