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When the arrivals screen at Belfast International Airport, buzzed, farted and then eventually refreshed to show that flight EZY 6774 from Rome had finally touched down, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Not for myself, but for Linka, who I knew was a nervous flyer. For several weeks her emails had been saturated with expressions of apprehension. I could only describe her last email as one of panic, as she outlined how she would only get on the plane if she could book a seat right at the very rear. Her theory was that this was the safest place, bearing in mind that you hardly ever see a jet plane reverse into a mountain. I didn't try to argue with that logic, nor did I try to dispel her absolute confidence that while in Northern Ireland she would have to dodge sniper fire and hide in the boot of my car from armed terrorists in black balaclavas.

As I stood there, waiting for her at arrivals, I became so nervous that my elbows started to sweat. I'm not sure why, exactly. Linka and I had chatted by email for several years and had become good friends. We communicated regularly using webcam, so it wasn't as if we had never seen each other before. She was married and I had a girlfriend, so neither of us harboured any romantic or sexual intentions (apart from one night a year or so before when while drunk she forgot the cam was on and took her top off and I celebrated by doing naked handstands). So why was I so nervous?

After what seemed like an elbow sweating age Linka appeared, staggering through arrivals, her blond curly hair bouncing around her pretty round red face, dragging her case behind her. I recognised her, of course, but she still didn't look how I expected. She muttered something about valium, called me "her little handstand boy", and literally squeezed all the nerves out of me with a great big hug. At that moment, though, despite the fact we had been friends for several years, I suddenly realised how much of a stranger this person really was. Thats why I had been so nervous. This was someone I only knew from the internet. I thought I had filled in all the gaps from our long, in depth, correspondences. Yet only now when I was seeing her before me, touching her, smelling her, did I realise that it is impossible to get to know the real character of someone until you meet them in person. From that moment on, we had to get to know each other all over again. Over the next few days we did exactly that. I realised how much more rewarding a real life friendhsip is, and Linka come to realise why Northern Ireland is one of the best kept secrets in the world.

Learn more about this author, Robert Stephenson.
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