As the vast grey city of bridges and skyscrapers rose up into view outside the window, one of the passengers began to rhapsodize.
"Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn! Most populous of the five New York city boroughs! First battle-site of the American Revolution! Home of Coney Island, Jamaica Bay, the New York Post! Unity makes strength! Yes, truly, Brooklyn is a testament to human endeavor, a place of great advancement and prosperity, a panacea for heart and mind in the turbulent global village of today!"
His companion in the seat next to him groaned. "Oh, not this crapheap again!"
The passenger by the window peered over the top of his sunglasses, brushing some colourless hair out of his ruby-red eyes. The albino, almost buried in his long multicoloured scarf and oatmeal jacket was as much of an odd sight as the young Aborigine in the seat beside him. His mane of crude blonde dreadlocks framed an oval face hidden by a pair of tinted pince nez spectacles, while his grey leather jacket and matching pants didn't quite balance out his searing day-glo turquoise T-shirt with the words LUST DENTIST etched across the chest.
"What is it now, Nigel?" complained the albino.
The pair in the seats behind them popped their heads over the top. The one on the left was a mop-haired spaniard with a permanent smirk while on the right-hand was a girl of mixed race with a straight black fringe and long dark hair that gave her a vaguely asian look. "Have you been here before?" she asked.
"That I have, Gabs," Nigel told her. "And it's not an experience I wish to repeat, capice?"
"I bet you got thrown out," leered the spaniard. "Didn't you?"
"As a matter of fact, Chamber, I chose to leave - and I couldn't too that fast enough!" Nigel grimaced in disgust. "You bang all you want about Brooklyn's cultural merit, Doc, but listen to someone who's actually been there. It sucks. It sucks so bad. You might think the second series of Broadchurch sucked but mein gott that was just peanuts to this. There are black holes out there who look on with bare envy at how much this place sucks. The word vacuum does not do it justice. It sucks to a degree that even the word sucks is the simplest way human beings can describe how much it sucks. It sucks, yet it also blows. It's that bad. It sucks to the nth degree. It mega sucks big time."
"Nigel?" asked the albino. "Are you insinuating that Brooklyn sucks?"
Nigel shrugged. "Don't pigeon-hole me, buster."
Gabby turned to the albino. "I thought we were going to Santa Onhorea?" she pointed out. "That's what the tickets say, and I checked and everything."
"Gabby, my dear," the albino sighed, "this is a connecting flight. We'll have to catch another plane to head to the island but until then we're at the heart of this metropolis which Nigel has seen but neglected to tell us about."
"If customs and immigration pull out the guns," Chamber warned, "you're on your own, Nige. I'll swear you've got drugs up your arse if I have to." He frowned. "Might do that anyway. Could be a laugh."
Gabby smacked him over the forehead. "Do that and I'll tell them you spent the whole flight giving out pamphlets about the benefits of Islamic State!"
"They'd use scrolls not pamphlets, bimbo!" Chamber grumbled, fending her off.
"Children, children," the albino tutted. "The fasten-seatbelt sign is on!"
"Lucky escape," Gabby grumbled, climbing back down into her chair.
"This is abuse, you realize?" Chamber told her. "It's not funny or clever, a girl beating a guy up. How would you like it if I started giving you the back of my hand?"
"I'd be amazed you have that motor control," Gabby said sweetly, buckling up. "So, Nige, what happened in Brooklyn? Were there hipsters or something?"
"Oh, I should be so lucky," Nigel sighed, letting his head fall back. "It was a year ago, pretty much back when I was dealing with the previous generation of unbelievably-warped human garbage that these two..." He waved a hand to indicate Chamber and the albino. "...barely outdo for contemptuous stupidity."
"You mean Andrew and Dave?" the albino guessed.
"Oh, what consequence are their names now?" Nigel sneered.
"Must be something," Gabby replied. "You talk about them in your sleep."
Chamber laughed; the albino sniggered.
"My noctural noises are down to the fact their unfashionable idiocy haunts my dreams," Nigel snapped. "Anyway, Dave managed to get us on the wrong plane and we ended up spending the night in the hellhole of Brooklyn, in some squallid pestilential cesspit called Williamsburg. We passed through this filthy cafe run by a transsexual Korean of indeterminate age, along with a bunch of oversexed predators of various ethnic backgrounds. Oh, and there were two lesbians who owned a horse; Dave fell in love of course and ended up trying to kill himself."
"Bloody hell," said the albino.
"Did he die?" asked Chamber, aghast.
Nigel sighed. "Yes, Chamber. He did. All those times you met him since were just his mournful spirit roaming the earth in eternal torment."
"Are you being sarcastic?" Chamber asked. "Because that is a credible explanation - especially given what happened when you..."
"Oi!" said Gabby. "We agreed not to talk about that!"
"Got anything in writing?" Chamber retorted.
"Only those sexts you sent to the coach in Glee."
There was a moment of silence.
"Moving on!" said Chamber suddenly. "So, Dave fell in love with a gay girl and tried to top himself? Doesn't he normally assume girls he's interested in will be gay? Or straight but in a relationship? Or pregnant with triplets to a Ronald McDonald impersonator in Prague."
"Oh, you know Dave," tutted Nigel. "He was always looking for an excuse to open his wrists. That said, those two girls did a number on him. I mean, they broke down every last ounce of self-esteem until he couldn't find a way out. They even," he continued in a confidential tone, "stole his trenchcoat."
The albino was stunned. "The one his mum gave him?"
"The very same."
"Those bitches!" Gabby breathed.
"Like I say," Nigel yawned. "This is the quality of human life we're about to plunge into. I tell you, there is no debauchery or debasement or debauchery in debasement that they won't stoop to. This is an evil place, plain and simple and frankly even if we stay in the airport we might as well be paying an unexpected visit to the cast of the Hills Have Eyes."
"Jeez," Gabby said. "Maybe we should try getting a different plane and going to the island another way?"
The albino shrugged. "All depends what the schedules are like."
The plane began the final approach and the passengers fell silent.
Until Chamber suddenly spluttered, "Wait a minute. Did you say they owned a freaking horse?!"
-x-x-x-
The quartet shuffled directionlessly around the arrivals lounge, trying to get a clear view at the illuminated departures board. All four wore backpacks and clutched their plane tickets tightly in their hands.
"Well, I suppose it's not that bad," said Gabby, glancing around.
"It's very crowded," Nigel told her, "because everyone's trying to get the hell out of here. This must be how the unicorns felt when Noah's Ark was boarding."
Gabby frowned. "Unicorns aren't real."
"That's right, sweetheart, deconstruct my witty allusions," Nigel sighed.
"She's right though," said Chamber.
Nigel rolled his eyes. "All right! Unicorns aren't real! Someone, tell Rupert Murdoch while there's still time!"
"I mean this place isn't as bad as you were saying," Chamber went on. "It's not exactly Mad Max out there, is it?"
"Mad Max is set in Australia," the albino pointed out.
"Rupert, less talking, more finding our flight to the island," Chamber told him shortly. "If we do have to stay around here, it might not be too bad. There are all sorts of hotels built up around airports, I'm sure..."
Nigel glared at him. "Archibald Hetherington Nasty-Face Chamber," he said firmly, "I am not wasting my hard-earned royalties, gambling wins and dole payments on some overpriced-underresourced squat. If we have to stay here, we stay here, right here where at least there is some reasons of international diplomacy for the locals not to knife us to death!"
"So they're Americans, big deal!" complained Chamber. "As long as we stay out of the dark alleys and don't accept sweets from strangers, it can't be any more dangerous than Redfern, can it?"
"I agree with Chamber," said the albino.
"Your three-fifths of an opinion really matter to me, Doc," Nigel said flatly.
"I think you're just missing Andrew and Dave and you don't like being reminded of one of the good times you had here forever."
"Well, I think you're a net-addled facebook-addicted albino who has absolutely no idea what the hell you're talking about. I know which sounds more likely."
Chamber grinned. "Hey, let's check out the cafe Nigel whinged about. I bet it's the best ever - there probably aren't even any horse-owning lesbians!"
"Don't stereotype people!" Gabby pouted.
"At the cafe, Gabs," Chamber explained.
"Oh."
"Tomorrow there's a flight strait to Santa Onhorea," the albino said, nodding to the indicator board. "We can be there much quicker if we stay here for the night rather than trying to find another route. Plus, apparently there's a branch of the High here that's doing really well."
"The High?" Nigel arched an eyebrow. "Some kind of medical marijuana chain?"
"It's a cake shop. The latest thing - branches of it everywhere."
"At least it's not a cupcake shop," Nigel muttered.
"I thought you liked cupcakes," Gabby said.
"I do, I do. Australian cupcakes. Not American ones." Nigel stretched and yawned. "Ok, Doctor Spoon, Chamber, you sod off and get us some consumable confectionaries and we'll stay here."
"But I thought I might take a look around," said Gabby.
"Oh, just need to show you something first, Gabs," Nigel pleaded.
"Come along, Chamber," said the albino brightly. "Let's get to the High."
Chamber trugded along beside him. "That doesn't sound as cool as you think it does, Rupert," he told him as they made their way along the concourse.
Gabby opened her mouth to speak, but Nigel held up a silencing finger while he craned his neck and looked at their departing companions. "...they're gone. Thank Christ for that. That's 72 hours non-stop with that inbred sitcom double-act! I can't take any more! Come on, girl, let's just ditch them!"
Gabby was taken aback. "Just leave them here?"
"Why not? They've got their luggage, their tickets. They're old enough and ugly enough to look after themselves!"
"They're younger than we are!"
"OK, they're not old enough, but they're certainly ugly enough! Come on, Gabbs, we can catch up with them on Santa Onhorea, can't we?"
Gabby turned to the indicator board. "But there aren't any flights yet..."
"Hence my cunning and devious plan," Nigel assured her, waving his tickets. "We take a connecting flight and take our own little detour. If Spoon and Chamber want to loiter with intent in Brooklyn, we can do it somewhere better."
"Like?"
"Gay Parry!" Nigel said, indicating one of the flights to France. "The city of light and love and art and..." He trailed off, then shrugged. "...bagets! Come on, love of mine, let us get away from those ghastly flatmates of ours and revel in each other's company!"
Gabby glanced in the direction the others took. "I guess it would be nice. I mean, I've always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. They say it's got three different shades of paint so it looks exactly the same colour. Random, huh?"
"Random and completely uninteresting," Nigel agreed. "But you and me, Gabs, we're going to go Euro-trip! And I'm not suggesting we get drunk on absinthe and have sex with our own relatives..."
"You sure?" Gabby asked doubtfully. "You still fancy your stepsister."
"Pah! Purely animal attraction!" Nigel assured her. "Yes, I'd bang her like a dunny door in a cyclone, but you're the girl I actually want to be with."
Gabby smiled. "Wow. That's really romantic. For you, I mean. From anyone else it'd be a real insult." She took his hand. "But I'm up for it."
Nigel lowered his shades, letting the genuine affection in his mud-brown eyes be seen. "I truly love it when you say those words in that order, Gabrielle McCormick. Now, come on, the next flight to France is boarding now!"
Hand-in-hand, the young couple started to fight their way through the crowds towards the the departure gate.
-x-x-x-
Their tickets allowed them two adjoining seats in the coach class of the plane to France. Nigel was glad; the last few flights had kept him stuck to the other two of their party, neither of whose company he enjoyed as much as his girlfriend. Perhaps if it had been Andrew or Dave, things might have been different... He forced his thoughts away from that. The only way up was forward. No regrets.
Gabby had the window seat while Nigel took the aisle. They'd managed to somehow arrive before most of the other passengers and as they sat others came in and took their seats. Gabby was dozing off by the time the doors were shut.
Nigel was about to snooze off himself when one of the passengers sitting right behind them cried, "I'm so stoked! I've never been in first class!"
That voice sounded strangely familiar...
An equally-familiar voice said, "Except, Max, this is coach."
Nigel's eyes widened and he licked his dry lips.
"I got a refund on one ticket and traded in the other to buy two coach tickets and to pay for a cheap hotel..."
"I'm so stoked - I've never been in coach!"
Nigel quite calmly opened his mouth as wide as his jaw would allow, shoved most of his fist inside his mouth and sunk his teeth into his knuckles.
The noise from the passengers behind them woke Gabby up. She sniffed, blinked and then noticed her boyfriend was seemingly trying to bite off his own hand. She frowned and sat up. "Hey, what is it?" she asked, concerned.
Nigel looked across at her, the picture of innocence depite his attempt at self-cannibalism. Carefully, he took the hand from his mouth and shot her a smile that was so calculated to be winning even Gabby saw through it.
"Hmmm?" he said, trying not to let anyone here his voice.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
Nigel shook his head slightly too enthusiastically. "No, no," he said in a faint, breathless tone of blind panic. "Everything's cool right now." He stared at the seat ahead of him for a while. "Might be some problems later," he added weakly, "but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it..."
Behind him, Max Black yelled to the stewardess at the top of her voice. "Hey, can I trade this in for a beer?"
- to be continued...