The Terminal

So, the bakers?
- No, never mind. It's a dumb story.
- No, please.

I'm sorry, Viktor.
Nobody really cares
where the croissant was invented.

I'll bet the Romanians themselves
don't give a shit.

I care.
Is histories. Is truth.
- I'm 39 years old.
- No.

- Yeah.
- No.

- That's the truth.
- You are not.

I tell everybody I'm 33, and most of
the men I've dated think I'm 27, but no.

I'm 39.
So? I was 39 once.
I was 18 years old
when I started working for the airlines.

I've been doing this over 20 years.
And now there's no more pretending.
This is it.
It's why my address book is by city
and my pager goes off during dinner.

You can switch off pager.
I wish I could.
I've been waiting for a phone call
for seven years.

I know it's coming, Viktor.
That's why I can't break it off.

That's why I live out of hotels and have
my little suitcase packed, ready to go,

just in case
he wants to meet me for the weekend.

I've been waiting my whole life.
- Just don't know what the hell for.
I'm so sorry.