Drunk on a Plane, page 2
Megan raised an eyebrow. "Can you get to the bathroom?"
"Pfft, no problemo." Eric stood and wobbled a little.
Pointing toward the restrooms, Megan said, "You sure you're okay?"
"Yep." He walked to the restroom in a surprisingly straight line. A few minutes later, he came back and carefully sat at the table.
"All better?"
He gave her a thumbs up.
"How drunk are you?"
He snorted. "Pretty drunk."
She motioned to his cup. "Your coffee's cooled off. Drink."
"How come you're here?"
"I already paid for my trip, I might as well take it."
He slurred, "I'll make sure you get paid for the pictures. I mean, there's not going to be any pictures. Well, there will be pictures. I bet you take a lot of pictures. But like, wedding pictures. Not your fault though."
"It's fine. I'm not worried about it."
"Ha. I doubt it."
With her cup halfway to her lips, Megan paused. "What do you mean?"
"It's money. Money makes the world go 'round, right?"
"I wouldn't know," she said. "I'm not exactly rolling in it."
He made a noncommittal grunt, but finished his coffee. After a few minutes of silence, he blurted out, "Do you wanna know why she called it off?"
Megan looked up, but said nothing.
"Better options. She was always looking for an upgrade."
"Then why were you going to marry her?"
He held his hands up then slapped his palms on the table. "I don't even know anymore. At first I wanted to prove I was good enough for her. Then I think I got stubborn and didn't want to admit defeat. De. Feat. Failure."
"Sometimes things don't work out."
"Are you single because things didn't work out with somebody?"
She gave a humorless laugh. "Something like that. Let me grab you another coffee."
When she returned with the cup, Eric was staring out into the crowd. "Do you wonder where they're all going?"
Glancing at the steady stream of people moving past the coffee shop, Megan shrugged. "Sure."
"Pick somebody."
"What?"
His melancholy mood vanished and Eric grinned. "Pick somebody out of the crowd."
She looked around. "Okay, how about the guy with the Hawaiian shirt?"
"Psssht. Too easy. Headed to Florida. Retired. Was up north visiting his ungrateful kids who want him and his wife to move back home so grandma can babysit their brats for free. Next."
Megan laughed. "Hmm, there." She nodded toward a woman with three small children in tow.
"Sad story. They live in the airport. In fact, both of the younger kids were born here. Over in Terminal D. They live off scraps from the food court and water fountains. Sometimes they steal clothes from unclaimed baggage." His eyes unfocused, then he squeezed them shut. "So sad."
"You really are drunk, aren't you?" He hadn't been slurring his words, so she almost forgot how much he'd had to drink. "We should head to our gate."
"Yeah, I guess."
Megan checked her pass again, but Eric shook his head. "Check the board. Gates change. Like all the time." He pointed to the ceiling over a large bank of screens with all the flights listed.
"I'm glad you told me. My pass has E4, but this says A11."
His eyebrows rose. "A11? Crap. We better start walking." He grunted as he got off his chair and leaned a little too far as he reached for his bag.
Megan grabbed it and handed it to him, then pointed. "This way."
They walked. And walked. And walked. "How big is this place?"
"Big."
Turning down the massive hallway to Terminal A, Megan felt more and more like a sheltered hillbilly, staring around in wonder at all the shops and restaurants while everyone else looked at their phones or the ground, completely unimpressed.
They took seats in the waiting area between gates 11 and 12, watching the planes roll in. Eric dozed off and on. Megan took her camera out of her carryon bag and took some pictures out the window, then snapped some pictures in the terminal. When it was time to board, Megan hung the camera around her neck and nudged Eric. As a first class passenger, he was one of the first to board. She was one of the last.
Edie had been right. It was much easier on this leg of the flight, now that she knew what to expect. This time, her stomach didn't roll quite as violently when the plane took off.
The clouds captivated her, so she took dozens of pictures. They would probably be indistinguishable from each other, but she didn't care. This plane was smaller than the last, with no wall separating the more comfortable first class from the regular passengers. Eric dozed a few rows in front of her, his snoring undoubtedly annoying the people around him. She felt bad for him, but wondered why he was ever with Brittney in the first place. They didn't match at all. He seemed down to earth and Brittney was, well, Brittney.
The flight passed without incident. Megan's seatmate for this leg of the trip wasn't talkative, which suited her fine. She watched the passing landscape, fascinated with the topography they passed. Hills and rivers and trees and roads. Everything was so tiny. Tiny little things, built by tiny little people, with tiny little lives like hers. She wondered how many people on the ground were like her – shoved in a box she didn't belong in, living up – or down – to expectations of others and ignoring her dreams.
Enough. Stay in the present. Soak up every second of this adventure. She wasn't going to waste one minute of this trip.
The plane landed a little more smoothly this time. Megan waited until most of the passengers had moved before she got up to retrieve her bag from the overhead. She moved down the aisle and saw Eric's still-sleeping form. She plopped down in the seat beside him and reached over to shake his shoulder.
"Hey. Hey, we're here. The plane landed."
"Huh?" He moved his head slightly.
"Eric. Wake up. It's time to get up."
"Five more minutes," he mumbled.
"Come on, we have to go."
"Yeah, I'm good."
"Eric," she said louder, shoving his shoulder. "Get. Up."
"It's in the fridge."
Megan looked around. There were fewer than a dozen people left on the plane. The flight attendant manning the door was watching them. "Eric. You have to get up. Now. We have to go. We're in Orlando."
His face scrunched up as he managed to pry his eyes open. "Ah, geez. My head."
She shook him again. "You need to get moving. Now."
His eyes opened wider and he looked around. "Oh. Yeah, I'm up. Sorry." He stood and smacked his head on the ceiling. He yowled and his hands flew up, cradling the spot. "Holy crap, ow."
Megan winced. "Here, come out here so you don't hit it again." She pulled him toward the aisle. They were the last two passengers in the plane. "Let's go."
Eric groaned as he reached over his head to grab his bag.
"Come on, come on, come on. You're going to get us arrested or something."
He managed a smile. "I think we'll be okay." The smile transformed into a grimace. He walked down the aisle and stepped off the plane into the hallway. "This was a terrible idea."
"What?"
"This trip. I should have bailed like she did."
"Why didn't you?"
He gave a half smile. "Maybe I'm running away? Maybe I don't want to deal with all the crap back home? I don't know."
Megan shifted her camera bag. "Where's the baggage claim?"
"Out to the left." He pointed.
"You've been here before?"
"A couple of times. You?"
Megan laughed. "This is the first time I was ever on a plane."
His eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding."
"Nope. Scout's honor."
Chapter 3
Eric considered turning around and immediately booking another flight back home. He shook his head. This whole trip was pointless and stupid. He should have stayed home so he could wallow in his... what? Misery? No, not really. Anger? Meh. Embarrassment? Humiliation? The truth was probably lurking in there somewhere.
In the end, he decided against it. A wave of booze-inspired chivalry convinced him Megan needed his help to navigate the process of getting on the ship. Besides, the trip was already paid for. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to go.
He'd have a big suite to himself. He could easily avoid being around people. But mainly, there was a good possibility he could score some coffees and teas for his brother's new shop, so it wouldn't be a wasted trip.
If nothing else, Stewart would be glad to have some exotic new flavors, and Eric would have time to think about what he wanted from his life. Or from a wife. He knew he wanted one of those, although given his current situation, he should be a little more selective about the woman he chose. Kids? He could take them or leave them. But forty was getting closer and closer, and if his wife wanted kids, he didn't want to wait around to get started.
The crowded terminal didn't help his pounding head at all. He was still half drunk, and the nap did more harm than good. His neck was stiff and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. His eyelids scraped his eyeballs every time he blinked.
"I'm going to grab a drink." Cutting across the crowd, he veered off toward a fountain and took long gulps of the tepid water. It didn't help much.
Megan stood on the other side of a river of people, frowning at her phone. He waited for a break in the travelers, then pulled his bag quickly across the flow.
"...I can't talk now... No... Mom, I have to... No... I have to go get my baggage. I just... No, I wanted to tell you I got here okay... Yeah, I gathered as much from your ten voicemails... I have to go, the shuttle's waiting on me. Love you, bye." She poked her phone and shoved it into her pocket.
"Everything okay?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's fine. Ridiculous, but fine. I'm a grown-ass woman, but my mother thinks I'm incapable of making it from Point A to Point B without being abducted or murdered or at the very least, run over."
"Overprotective, huh?"
"You have no idea."
He pretended not to notice her blinking back tears when she turned her face away from him. "Baggage claim is over this way. We'll grab our bags and then find the shuttle."
"Sounds good."
And he thought he had issues with his parents. His mother still worried about him when he traveled, but she'd long since gotten over the need to bombard him with calls when he was away from home.
Eric pointed. "This way."
They'd taken long enough getting off the plane that the bags were already coming through on the conveyor. People were crowding around the carousel, yanking suitcases off and rolling them toward the exit.
"Which one's yours?"
"It's red with an orange tag. There it is."
Her pristine suitcase rolled around in front of them. Megan grabbed it and checked the tag. "Now where's yours?"
"With my luck? Probably Antarctica." He laughed, glad he managed to pull a smile out of her.
The crowd thinned considerably. Finally his battered black suitcase emerged from behind the plastic curtain. "There it is." When it came around, he pulled it off the belt. "Ready?"
"Yup." She looked up at the directional signs. "I assume the shuttle will be out there."
"Lead the way."
They pulled their suitcases through sliding glass doors. The wall of humidity hit them, erasing the comfortable air conditioned atmosphere they'd been enjoying. A man holding a sign with the name of their cruise line stood along the sidewalk a few yards away.
"Names?" He checked them off on a clipboard as they answered, then shoved their suitcases in the back of an already-stuffed minivan. Megan climbed in and squished over as far as she could on the bench seat, against the other two people in the row. Eric sat beside her, half his butt hanging off the edge of the seat. The driver consulted the clipboard, counted the people in the van, and slid the door shut.
Eric grumbled, "I hope this is a short ride. My balance isn't the greatest today."
"Here. Try this." She scooted forward to the edge of the seat. "Now turn sideways so your feet are there." She pointed to the floor between the seat and the door.
He turned and found more real estate for his behind. "Thanks." He wasn't too keen on being sideways in the minivan, especially since the driver had barely pulled away from the curb and was already weaving across lanes of traffic, inspiring blaring horns and middle fingers. "Doesn't Florida have seatbelt laws, or maximum occupancy guidelines?" He whispered.
Megan held onto the seat in front of her and shot him a look. "I expected more palm trees and less concrete," she said.
Eric watched out the window. "Too much television."
"Ha. No doubt."
"I bet you got all your ideas about Florida from Miami Vice."
Megan giggled. "What's wrong with Miami Vice? Crockett and Tubbs were awesome. Those blazers and shoes with no socks? The height of men's fashion."
"Thankfully, we've come down from those heights."
"Oh, please. I bet you have a lemon yellow blazer in your suitcase."
He laughed in spite of his thumping temples. "No. I brought the seafoam green one instead. It matches my eyes."
"For the formal dinner, right?"
"Exactly. So did you bring your Aqua Net?"
"Hazmat confiscated it at the airport."
Eric grinned. "Good call. That stuff is dangerous. It ruined the ozone, who knows what it could do to a plane."
"Oh, please. If it was so bad, every woman who lived in the eighties would be bald."
He had to laugh out loud. The man on the other side of Megan, though, sighed loudly, apparently annoyed at their conversation.
Twenty minutes later, they reached the dock and unloaded the van. Megan was wide-eyed and jittery. He followed her line of vision.
"I... I didn't imagine it would be so big. I swear Hickory Hollow could fit in there and have room left over."
"Just wait until we get on board."
"You've cruised before?"
"Once. I was a teenager and my grandparents took the whole family on a cruise to celebrate their fiftieth anniversary."
"How sweet."
"How about you? Where does your family go on vacation? Obviously nowhere too far, right?"
A shadow passed over Megan's face. "We never went anywhere after – I mean, the last time we went anywhere, I was about fifteen. We went to Ocean City."
Something in her voice kept him from digging deeper. "New Jersey or Maryland?"
"Maryland. I'm excited to see the ocean again."
He followed her through the welcome center and found a spot at the counter. He showed his papers, handed over his credit card, signed a few forms, and took his packet from the woman behind the counter. Megan was waiting at the doorway, clutching the strap of her camera bag.
They left their luggage with the attendant and walked across the catwalk to the ship. Her steps faltered. "I think I'm starting to freak out."
"Too late now. If I can suck it up and go, so can you."
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Sorry. I forgot."
Eric gave her a shrug. "It's okay." I did, too. He didn't want to explore that any further. "What deck are you on?"
"Six. I'm in 6240."
"I'm 12238. Up on twelve."
They stepped off the catwalk and into a giant, grand lobby. A football field could easily fit into the posh space. He nearly bumped into Megan.
She was staring at the room, eyes wide with wonder. "Wow, look at the chandelier. And the piano. And the staircase. What deck are we on?"
"I think we're on Deck Four."
They walked toward the bank of elevators, where ship employees were standing with trays of piña coladas. Eric lightly touched Megan's elbow and leaned over. "FYI, those drinks they're handing out aren't free."
She raised an eyebrow. "Thanks. I would have gotten one, too." They stepped into the elevator with a group of other people. Megan stepped out on Deck Six. "See you around."
Eric gave her a small wave as the doors slid shut.
Chapter 4
Megan pushed the door to her cabin open. A towel folded into the shape of a frog sat on her bed, guarding a newsletter and a few pieces of chocolate. She peeked into the bathroom. Small, but more than adequate. She pulled back the floor length curtains and took in the view. More cruise ships were docked nearby. Passengers were standing on their upper decks, waving, presumably, to passengers on the upper decks of this ship.
Grabbing her camera and her key card, she decided to join them. Maybe she'd even get some nice shots of the dock. For a brief moment, she wished she'd put some of her personal items in her carry-on bag. She would have loved to brush her hair before heading out.
The stairwells were filling with people of all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages. She retruned the smiles of each person who glanced her way. Cruisers certainly seemed to be a friendly bunch.
Stepping out onto an outer deck, she pulled in a deep breath. The delicious thick tang of salt and heat in the air coated her nose and the back of her throat. The view from this side of the ship was dockside. She looked out over the scenery, mildly disappointed at the city feel of the tangle of highways and the surprising lack of palm trees and sand. She leaned on the railing, looking down into the murky water slapping the side of the ship. A tinge of anxiety fluttered in her belly. It was a long way down.
Walking around the front of the deck, she ran into more and more people congregating along the rail. She found an open spot and snapped some pictures of their cruise ship neighbor. Someone behind her bellowed, "One, two, three," and the whole crowd yelled, "Bon Voyage!" A moment later, a return call came from the other ship, sending a ripple of festive laughter through the passengers.
Megan stayed on the deck for a long while, watching the other ship's passengers come and go as they did on her ship, until it was time to return to her cabin and take her life jacket to the assigned deck for the safety briefing.
Chapter 5
