(Author note)- Hey! I'm Rice. I'm happy I'm doing this. No really. See, I got into this bet with my buddy Lina, and she's like, "You could so write an awesome Fanfic!" And I was like, "I SO could!"

So know I'm proving myself .

OOOOMG

Almost forgot a disclaimer

Disclaimer:.

Digimon is in no way shape or form mine, and I own no rights to the characters or events associated with the series. Basically, Digimonnot mine.

Cool air escaped the nozzle Yamato was currently fiddling with. He was preparing for landing. Airplane rides were not to Yamato's liking, but hey, if he needed to, he flew. Is there any other way to get from LA to Paris in under 24 hours? Yamato didn't think so.

A plane's descent is usually a very uncomfortable thing. The entire time, the pressure changes, the plane makes unsteady movements... Yamato was certainly NOT into it, but he had to set an example. The passengers were "counting" on him. As an employee of Metro Air, one needed to always, quote "Express quality work, attitude, and example to make our passengers as happy as possible." That's right, dear reader. Our Yamato here is not on a pleasure cruise, but rather working in a plane to serve badly-tempered, France-bound passengers.

As the plane began to descend, Yamato could hear the sounds of several of the passengers puking into their "air sickness" bags.

"Its all that nasty cheese them Frenchies eat," Thought Yamato to himself.

The plane landed, without blowing up or disintegrating, so Yamato counted it as a blessing.

"Ma'am? Ma'am! Are you alright?" Asked Yamato to a woman, sleeping soundly in the very back row after the plane had landed, "The gentleman behind you cannot get out."

The lady's eyes fluttered open. She stared at Yamato for several seconds, as though he was the first person she'd seen in years.

"Yes, Ma'am? Yes, I was just asking you to move. The plane has landed, and Mr. Harrison here needs to get out. He can't if you are asleep," He explained.

"Oh…" The woman said, obviously not completely awake, "Urm… okay, I'm getting up. You know, for a second there, you looked like Lance Bass, that gay Backstreet Boy, don't you know?"

Yamato rolled his eyes, and said in a very annoyed, monotone voice, "Yes, I am fully aware that I "resemble" a homosexual pop star. Please, clear all you belongings from the overhead compartment, and have safe time here in beautiful France."

"Pft. There's nothing worse than an emotional fruit," Muttered the lady, and she made her way out of the plane.

Yamato had to help other people too, including a disagreeable Russian man with a terrible accent, a mom with about 34 screeching children and no control, and several young and very snotty French teenagers.

But the worst of all was the Spanish Schoolgirls. They giggled at Yamato, asking him to, in very broken English, if he could, "PLEEEESEEEEE somewhat help we get our things in the from the Box above your head." Or as they had said it in Spanish, "Get your sexy bum over here and get us our bags from the overhead compartment." Yamato wished he hadn't known what they were saying, but 4 years of High School Spanish had taken care of that, hadn't it?

"Thank you for riding with Metro Air… "Said Yamato in an exasperated voice.

"YANMERO! Get your queer Asian ass OVER HERE! I need help with locking the safety… LOCKS!" Screamed a voice.

"Oh boy. I get to help Jaci, the racist Billion-year-old flight attendant fix the air locks," Thought Yamato as he raced over to help his co-worker.

As Yamato clipped down the last lock, he reminded Jaci his name was "Ya-ma-to" NOT Yamero, Yammario, or Yanmetro, or any other variation of his actual name.

"Honey, I can't say that. It ain't English-y enough," She sighed.

"Just…call me Matt… "

Yamato stepped off the plane and into the airport. Jaci finally told him he could get off work, and he jumped at a chance to leave. 24 hours until the next flight he needed to be on… it made Yamato SOOOO happy.

He could take PICTURES. Of beautiful things! He could eat rare French foods. HE COULD SLEEP. And then… sleep more.

As Yamato raced through the Paris airport, knocking down several old people and young children on his way, he planned his stay in the French Capital. If its 5:30PM now, then he best go out and take photos now, during the sunset and early nighttime, then crash at a hotel, wake up, taste some of the French delights, take some daytime photos… then it was back to L.A.

Like always.

(Author Note) Uh, yeah… I'm sorry about the Lance Bass/Backstreet Boys mix up. But I think that I makes it funnier, so I'm gonna leave it that way. Backstreet Boys-not mine. There. I think that that finishes this up.

Oh, yeah, it's a SORATO. I know, you can't tell yet. I kinda am a little slower getting into the romance part of the plot, but I'm just like that. Its how real life is, anyway. My chapters are kinda short. But I'll make like a billion of them.