"Post-takeoff checks complete, autopilot engaged," Douglas declared, leaning back in his seat and placing his feet on the console.
"Douglas!" Martin admonished, "What have I told you about doing that?"
"Relax, Martin. I'm not touching any of the important bits."
"They're all important bits!" Martin snapped.
Douglas heaved a long-suffering sigh and put his feet back on the floor, ignoring the smug look Martin shot his way. Silence reigned for a few minutes as Martin focused intently on the charts in front of him and Douglas contemplated his fingernails and whether they were due for a trim or could wait another week.
"Fancy a bet, Captain?" Douglas asked after a moment.
Martin looked up warily. "What kind of bet?"
Douglas thought for a moment. "On the hotel Carolyn has picked out for us."
"You expect me to believe you haven't asked her about it already?"
"Martin, you know she doesn't like to give away any details about her questionable choice in accommodations until we arrive," Douglas said reasonably, "And if it makes you feel any better, I'll let you wager first, then I'll take whatever bet is left over."
Martin was still frowning, but nodded. "Alright… for the Stilton, Wensleydale, and Camembert… Hmm, let's see; it's been a good year, with the two flights last month… I'll say it'll be a reasonable hotel; nicer than Kebili but not as nice as Skopje," Martin guessed.
"A reasonable assumption," Douglas nodded reassuringly, "I'll wager Carolyn will spring for something a little nicer this trip. Four, maybe five stars."
"Carolyn? A five star hote? Are you mad " Martin scoffed.
"Maybe I am. You should have no problem taking the bet if you're so confident."
Martin looked conflicted for a moment before he settled his face into an expression of resolute defiance.
"No," he said.
"What?" Douglas was surprised.
"I said no. The bet's off."
"Martin-" Douglas began to protest.
"No, Douglas," Martin said firmly. "I'm done betting against you. I'm never going to win."
"Well you're not wrong…" Douglas smirked.
"Coffee!" Arthur burst into the flight deck holding a mug in each hand.
"Thanks Arthur," Martin said.
Douglas accepted the coffee wordlessly.
"So what do you want to do first when we get to Blackpool?" Arthur asked excitedly. "Herc said there's an amusement park and a zoo with dinosaurs!"
Martin clapped his hands together, "Oh that's right, the Blackpool Air Show will be underway this weekend!"
"Yes," Douglas scoffed, "What better way for someone who flies planes for a living to relax than to watch someone else fly planes."
"Exactly!" Martin exclaimed, completely missing the sarcasm.
"Wow!" Arthur's eyes were wide. "This is going to be the best trip ever."
"What about you, Douglas?" Martin asked. "What do you want to do?"
"Oh I'm sure I'll find something to occupy myself with. Blackpool has quite the selection of bars."
Martin peered out the window. "Those clouds are a little dark…" he muttered.
Douglas pressed a button on the console. "Blackpool Tower and Approach, Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, radio check."
After a few moments the radio crackled to life, "Golf Echo Romeo Tango India, Blackpool Tower and Approach, I read you three."
"Golf Tango India, request descend. How does the weather look?"
"Golf Tango India, descend EGNH at 2000 feet per minute. Just a few clouds inbound from the south, nothing to be concerned about."
"Golf Tango India, roger." Douglas signed off.
"It looks like more than just a few clouds," Martin fretted, checking and double checking the instruments.
"Martin, relax," Douglas said, "Even if it does develop into a little rainstorm, I've landed planes in much worse."
This seemed to placate Martin and he relaxed a little into his seat.
Douglas flipped autopilot off. "Beginning descent," he said.
A few hours later, the plane had been landed, arrangements with the local airport had been dealt with, and all of their passengers had disembarked and departed to their destination. The crew of MJN Air stood on the kerb outside the airport as Arthur jumped up and down in the street attempting to hail a cab.
"Was that a raindrop? Did you feel that?" Martin asked, clutching his flight bag to his chest and peering into the grey sky.
"In fact I believe it was," Douglas replied drily.
"Oh no," Martin moaned. "If it's raining they'll cancel the air show… and the Royal Air Force Red Arrows are going to be flying this year!"
"Cheer up, Martin, there's plenty of other fun to be had- oh." Douglas' phone chirped and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket. "Ah, Carolyn's just texted me the hotel information."
"And?" Martin asked.
"The South Beach Hotel," Douglas said smugly, pulling up a photo on his phone to show Martin, "five stars."
"B-but we've never stayed anywhere that nice before," Martin gaped.
Douglas smiled at Martin's stricken expression. "Maybe you don't know Carolyn as well as you think."
"Chaps!" Arthur was waving his arms at them from the street where he'd finally nabbed a cab.
The few drops of rain had developed into a light, but steady drizzle. Douglas flipped his collar up and picked up his bag. Martin followed him to the cab where he found himself sandwiched between Douglas and Arthur.
The hotel was conveniently located on the beach, only a few minutes walk from most of the major Blackpool attractions. Arthur and Martin stared in awe at the impressive structure as the cab pulled up to the front.
"Wow! This is the biggest hotel I've ever seen!" Arthur exclaimed.
Martin silently nodded in agreement.
Douglas paid the driver and climbed out of the cab. It had begun to pour outside, so they hurried into the hotel. Douglas went up to the desk to check them in.
"Reservation for Carolyn Knapp-Shappey."
"Knapp-Shappey," the concierge confirmed, "Alright…. Suite 324."
"Hang on," Douglas said, "there should be three rooms."
The concierge clicked a few buttons on the keyboard then shook his head, "Nope. Just the suite."
Douglas frowned but took the proffered room key and returned to his co-workers.
"So much for Carolyn's generosity," he said, handing the plastic card to Martin. "Our righteous leader sprung for a grand total of one room."
"One room for all of us to share?" Martin looked indignant.
Arthur's eyes lit up. "Brilliant! It'll be like camping... but inside!"
"Into the woods then," Douglas sighed, heading towards the elevators.
Douglas had to admit that the suite wasn't so bad. It had two double beds and a good-sized couch, so at least none of them would have to share a bed. Arthur immediately declared the sofa his, claiming that "it feels more like camping when you aren't sleeping in a bed."
Neither Martin nor Douglas put up any arguments. After changing out of their uniforms, Douglas suggested they have dinner at the hotel restaurant on the first floor. Martin opened his mouth to protest but Douglas insisted it would be his treat and the captain hesitantly agreed.
It was fairly late by the time they finished dinner, and although Arthur was in favor of going to the amusement park despite the hour, he was overruled by the pilots with the promise that they would go out first thing in the morning.
Martin wrapped a thin hotel towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower. He wiped a circle on the fogged-up mirror and inspected his face—the heat-flushed skin on his cheeks and nose warring with the dark circles under his eyes. He knew Douglas certainly couldn't have failed to notice his captain's worsening state of exhaustion, but Martin couldn't afford to cancel even a single van job. Despite his financial situation and the encroaching storm, Martin was optimistic about this weekend. It was his birthday weekend after all, even though he'd gone to lengths to keep that knowledge from his friends in order to avoid the fuss that would certainly be put up by Arthur. Even if the air show he had been looking forward to was cancelled, he was determined to enjoy the weekend. At the very least it would give him a chance to catch up on his sleep. He pulled his pajamas on quickly and combed a hand through his hair before leaving the bathroom.
"Ah our illustrious captain returns. We were preparing to send in a rescue party," Douglas addressed Martin without looking up from his book, "we thought you might have fallen into the toilet."
Ignoring his co-pilot, Martin skirted around Arthur who was in the process of fashioning a tent with a broom, sofa cushions, and a blanket, and collapsed onto his bed. He was asleep within minutes.