Emir

I met Emir in Cincinnati, waiting for the flight to Paris. He's 14 years old, and was travelling from Portland, Oregon with his uncle, going back home to Istanbul.

Emir and his uncle bickered like brothers. But in a kind-hearted way. Mostly about semantics.

Emir told me a joke. The punchline was "because he was looking for Pooh."

I told Emir a riddle. And after 20 seconds he asked "What would the answer be?" More arguing about semantics.

And when Emir's uncle went to charge his mobile phone, Emir left him a note saying he had gone to meet a friend in Cincinnati and wasn't travelling back to Turkey with him. I wish I'd taken that note.

"You fell for it," he told his uncle.

"No, I didn't," his uncle said.

(Replay above dialogue 10 times.)

Emir showed me all 178 photos on his phone. Most were of his dogs, and a school trip to Helsinki, for a softball tournament.

And then Emir asked me about the Napa Valley. And after a visit to the buffet, he held up a fork with a grape on the middle tine and said, "THIS is why we want to go to California."

And then Emir was concerned that the Frankfurt flight which was leaving at the same time as our flight was boarding first. He wanted to know why. And kept asking why? why? why?

So I told him it's because the Germans are very organised, and before I could say more he said, "We're German."

"Gut, dann können wir Deutsch sprechen," I replied.

"Oops, we're not German," he said.

And then he asked me what my dad does for a living. I told Emir he owns the Cincinnati airport.

No, actually, he installs and fixes medical equipment.

"With a screwdriver?"

"Yes, and nothing else."

I wish I could write about Emir more eloquently. He was so kind and smart and mischevious, and more polite than any other 14-year-old. And he made the 5-hour layover in Cincinnati fly by.