The Bird-man of Malé
“There he is honey, I’ll be right back, I’ll just pretend I’m looking out the window at those birds.”
“All right”, she responded. “Would you mind watching my bag, I’ll use the restroom over there? I’ll meet you there by the window,” pointing with precision, as if directing traffic.
“ Sure thing.”
As I walked towards our assigned gate, my heart skipped a beat. There he was — a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to the famous actor, sitting by himself in an otherwise unoccupied row facing the outdoors.
I drew closer, not wanting my excitement to be too obvious when he chuckled to himself, “You know, I’ve been in a few movies with birds, those birds were real pros, let me tell you.”
His eyes were fixed on the birds outside the window, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was reminiscing about his roles in movies like The Dead Zone and Batman Returns.
Suddenly, a loud and obnoxious toot broke the localized silence amidst the humming background of foreign languages I wish I understood.
My heart sank. I realized that the sound must have come from the man himself. Too embarrassed to be associated with the unpleasant noise, I quickly seated myself next to the gentleman and braced for the noxious fumes that were sure to follow.
If it was not him, the elderly man seated beside me in Malé bore a striking resemblance to Christopher Walken’s twin brother.
Trying not to show my disgust, the Walken lookalike turned to me and said, “That wasn’t me. That was just my chair. It’s got a mind of its own.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, and he seemed pleased with himself, as the odoriferous stench tickled my nose.
We both stared blankly out the window, watching a murder of unusually emaciated looking crows playing dangerously close to the runway, as regional jets danced about the island airport tarmac choreographed to perfection.
Ignoring that which we both found hard to ignore, the elderly man heaved a deep sigh and turned to me.
And that’s when he began to speak…
“You know, when I was a kid, I used to love to watch the birds outside my window. They’d fly around, swooping and diving, and I couldn’t help but be mesmerized. It was like they were dancing up there in the sky, just for me.
But you know what? As I got older, I started to realize that life ain’t always like that. It’s tough out there, and sometimes you gotta fight just to survive. You gotta be tough, you gotta be resilient, and you gotta be ready for anything that comes your way.
That’s why I always say, if you wanna make it in this world, you gotta be like a bird. You gotta be able to soar when the winds are strong, and you gotta be able to ride out the storms when they come. It ain’t easy, but it’s worth it. So don’t give up, my friend. Keep on flapping those wings, and who knows? Maybe one day you’ll find yourself flying higher than you ever thought possible.”
As he concluded his quintessentially Walken monologue, a large air cargo jumbo jet made its final descent.
Just as the behemoth touches down, a relatively large and confident black bird flys directly into its path. But instead of being sucked into the engine like in those disaster movies, the bird humorously bounced off the nose of the plane and tumbled to the ground, then took flight once more.
The Walken doppelgänger turned to me, his eyes wide with amazement, and said, “Now, that’s what I call bird-brained!”
I laughed, impressed by his wit, as he continued, “You know, I once witnessed a pigeon shatter the windshield of a Cessna. It left quite a mess, let me tell you. But that bird right there, he’s got some moves! Have you ever seen anything like it?”
I shook my head, still in disbelief at what we had just witnessed.
Walken chuckled to himself and returned to staring out the window, muttering something about “flying rats” under his breath, and with that, he stood, adjusting the fanny pack about his embarrassingly hiked waistline.
“Safe flight, my friend,” he said as if he was tipping his cap, and proceeded to disappear into the bustling crowd.
“Was it him?” she asked as she returned with two bottles of water and a magazine tucked under her arm.
“You know, I am not sure. It had to be. I think. You won’t believe what we saw.”
Sharing a laugh, we both sat staring deliriously out the window for what seemed like hours until my bladder woke me from my semi-catatonic state.
Using the restroom one last time, I returned in time to join my beloved at the back of the line of folks heading to Kooddoo island. The time to board had finally arrived.
Walking out onto the tarmac, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the unexpected encounter with Mr. Walken. It had made the wait in Malé a bit more bearable, and his humor had lifted my spirits after the first three legs of our grueling thirty-plus hour journey.
With a renewed sense of excitement, we climbed the stairs into the aircraft with childlike giddiness. As we made our way to our seats on the Bombardier styled twin-turbo prop operated by Maldivian Airways, I saw the same elderly man from the gate, seated three rows behind, now staring out the window of the plane.
He continued to mutter to himself.
As the plane prepared to back away from the diminutive terminal, I settled into my seat feeling lighter and happier and prepared for our forth and final flight ahead.
Who knew that a little bit of comedy could go a long way? Or that a chance encounter with a Walken lookalike and an eccentric bird lover could make such a difference in one’s day?
When a sudden and cacophonous sound of flatulence filled the aircraft, and that is when I realized that we were in for a truly memorable flight.
