Nervousness.
A feeling that was, and still is associated mainly with crossing into the unknown, new depths, the night or day before battle. A word that was a prelude to success, or in cases seen in far too many occurrences, failure.
And it was what best described a young lady in the queues of the Singapore Airlines check in counter as she tried not to let it show on her dainty, almost porcelain face.
First flight and all that jazz was already going to her head. She was definitely in uncharted territory, that it could be said of the impending trip to Britain. But everything had its price. And as a lifelong fan of Manchester United, a trip to its hallowed stadium, the Theatre of Dreams was something that she could not miss.
"Next please."
An abrupt stir was all she knew as the daydreams were driven away, replaced by a smiling counter staff that clearly had designs for her waiting passport and luggage.
She had packed light, having planned for nothing more than five days in a country that was bound to blow her budget for the rest of the year. Nevertheless, it would be an experience of a lifetime to take to the grave. Or at least, to regale about to her future kids.
With a small smile, she heaved the luggage carrier onto the automatic ramp, something that at least did not trouble her as much as the feeling in the stomach was, thanks to her almost six foot, yet slender frame.
"There you go. Enjoy your flight, Miss."
The passport was now firmly back in her secure hands, a printed boarding pass nestled within as she plastered a grateful smile for the staff.
With that out of the way, all that remained was the flight to Manchester.
Nervousness.
It was a grand old plane. But if one were to count 2007 as old, then she was positively ancient, going by her twenty two years of age. Nevertheless, she was finally getting on one of these monsters of the skies, as termed by her peers who had the privilege to fly on the Airbus A380 long before today.
But today, it would be her turn to bask, at the very least, in the cramped spaces of the economy class, unlike the first and Business classes that her much more regal peers had the good fortune to recount to her.
The pitfalls increased as she found her seat, uncharacteristically dumping her rear end into the relatively plush seat with a merciful smile. Now that was another stressful thing off the list. A list that she hoped would never come to pass, she hoped, as she donned the headphones that she had mindfully packed into her hand luggage.
And that was another thing off her stress filled list as the A380 coasted down the runway.
Manchester Airport.
That was all her ears struggled to hear as she levelled down the volume on the headphones.
"Good Evening."
It was a voice she, and the other eight hundred passengers were bound to know. After all, it was the captain of the aircraft that was broadcasting his almost sultry intonations around the A380 from the start of the flight.
"This is your captain speaking. As you may, or may not know, we are approaching Manchester Airport. We are on final approach and if time permits, we should be ahead of schedule by about five minutes. Until then." It paused. "We, at Singapore Airlines, hope that you have enjoyed your flight with us."
It was a flight to remember, Nicole bitterly thought as she harked back to almost twelve hours before. A delay at the Dubai transit area had condemned the aircraft and its equally hapless passengers to sitting in the jet way for almost an hour or two while they found the source of the problem. But they had taken on extra fuel for their troubles and were rewarded, by the almost impeccable performance of the Trent 800 turbofans that had taken them to within almost five minutes ahead of schedule.
So this was Manchester. The birthplace of United. And with a bitter twinge of her face, its crosstown rivals, Manchester City. It was one thing that she hated the most, aside from the usual rivals like Chelsea that had taken the Premier League crown from them most of the time.
Tomorrow, she hoped that would not be the case.
Hotel Football.
So generically named for the love of the sport that its owners had pursued ever since their defining careers at Old Trafford respectively.
And with a swish of her head, was the stadium itself, its imposing figure swallowing almost all of Manchester, even in the dead of the night, illuminated by the sheer blue panels lining the East Stand.
It was this very place that had given birth to a slew of heroes. Heroes that dominated the football field. From the Busby Babes to George Best and in more modern times, Cristiano Ronaldo and Wayne Rooney, this was the hallowed place steeped in football history for undiscovered players to make their mark in the football world.
And as she returned to the view of the hotel, it was the perfect name that Ryan Giggs, Paul Scholes and the Neville Brothers had chosen for the hotel.
Football, the beautiful game.
There was a rush of cold air that made her shudder as she struggled to deal with the already chilly year end weather. Autumn had come and had firmly gripped the United Kingdom. But it also meant that the football season was heading for a hyper drive.
As before, she bravely strode to the counter, plastering an accommodating smile on her face as she hoped to engage one of the busy counter staff. She was extremely in need of a warm bed and a shower. And that could only be found in a hotel room.
"Good Evening. Miss?"
"Nicole. Nicole Sim" She answered, hesitatingly reaching for her passport and the details of her hotel booking. "I have a reservation for one."
"Very good." The blonde staff smiled as he appraised the weary customer in front of his desk. "If you would kindly..
No sooner than he had uttered the words, a red book, complete with a copy of the mentioned documents were atop the counter.
"That was fast." He chuckled, much to Nicole's quickly stifled consternation. "Right. Let me process this and you can be on your way to your room."
To his credit, it didn't take long as she had feared. The trip had taken a heavy toll on her body and her mind was nagging at her for some undisturbed sleep, of which she had found none aboard on the noisy airplane.
As the room card was pressed into her hands, along with the necessary papers, she could do nothing but smile in relief, waltzing towards the direction of the lift gracefully with her luggage in tow.
Morning found her still, unsurprisingly nestled within the duvets of the rather large bed that encompassed the majority of the room. Sure, the accommodation didn't seem that all cramped, but neither was it spacious either. That though, was compensated by the utter luxury that the room contained within.
That was underneath her own personal touch of décor.
Eventually, there was a grudging yawn. And then a full, yet blurry view of the Manchester skyline was what greeted Nicole as she left the personal comfort of her unblemished sleep. Today, today was the day that she would experience what the game and the stadium had to offer. First-hand.
Nervousness.
She emerged from the hot shower, all the better awake and fresh, dressed in a United jersey she had procured from a shop back in the vestiges of her home country.
It was her beloved, a given that it cost a pretty penny to secure the purchase. Perhaps, that wouldn't have been the case had she not gone overboard and inked the name of Shaw's on her back. But that was a decision that had already been taken by her womanly instincts.
There was still time as she pushed past the door, making sure the lock engaged with a click. Being a late afternoon match, the relatively still early timing of nine am allowed her the luxury of breakfast on her own time.
Nine am.
Back home, it would've meant a harried breakfast, a yelp or two in darting the obstacles that littered her almost tidally messy room in a bid to get to work. Then there was the metro as well. A cluster bomb of sardine packed train flavors that seemed to permeate her clothes every single blasted day.
Not today.
With a licking grin, she stepped into the lift, her mind and keen stomach searching for the aroma of a content morning meal.
With breakfast fully settled in her now content stomach, she settled back, a pleasant sigh escaping her mouth as she dived further into the comfort of the lounge. It was a quarter past ten, the longest time in forever that she had taken to consume her meal. Enjoying each taste, each bite, allowed her to enjoy the flavour of the egg and ham special that she had ordered. And to say the least, it was heavenly.
Time.
A quick peek at her watch and the mental calculations came back. There were two hours left before the gates to the Stretford End opened, ready to accept the second largest crowd in England behind the famous Wembley Stadium. And an hour back, would be her chance to perhaps, snare a jersey or two off the famed Megastore within the United stadium.
She was ready.
The frigid wind was what awaited Nicole as she stepped out of the lobby, her hands instantly rubbing her shoulders in a futile bid for protection. She had taken extra precautions, including the gloves on her hands for extra comfort and her treasured woolly hat sitting precariously on her head. But Mother Nature was not about to be outdone, her work too overwhelming for the newbie in the country to adjust to.
A shiver ran down her spine as she quickened her pace, calling upon from memory that she had spent the morning scrutinising the map that she had gotten off the helpful counter staff. Chalk one up to Hotel Football.
The Megastore was something that she did not expect, staggering her beliefs as she pushed past the doors.
It was humongous to say the least. Shop floors among shop floors lined the place, full of football accessories to kits to balls and boots, nothing that had no connection to football was here. And it was nothing that any self professed United fan could give a miss right before a match.
Silently, she made her way across the length of the floor, taking in what lay in the paths ahead of her.
There were mannequins, littered with the latest replica kits of the 2015 season that had yet to make it, with a sigh, on her collection.
Gently, she caressed the material of the nearest dummy, taking in the new adidas designed kits that had just been released in place of Nike as part of the world record sponsorship deal months earlier
Choices were abundant, with the entire squad spread across three different assigned colorways. But her measly budget meant that she only had enough for a single kit.
"Who should I pick?" She cursed, eyeing the various names that lined the uniforms. "Depay?"
Depay was a tempting choice. A phenomenal up and coming Dutch talent that had all the hallmarks of being a potential future Cristiano Ronaldo. Yet..
"Schneiderlin." She breathed, the syllables perfectly rolling off her mouth as one would have expected him to look as he was. A combative French midfielder that was about the same age as her.
"Guess it'll be him, then." She grinned, her mood all the better for it with one more entanglement undone.
Concentration returned to her eyes as she focused on yet another tussling issue.
The orange hue that accented the black colourway stood out far among the red and white options, the home and away kits respectively. It would have been a no brainer to have that snagged immediately, had it not been for the strange pattern that the shorts came with, a black fading into white zig-zag monstrosity that put a damper on what would have been the perfect purchase of the season.
That was, until she hit on the pristine white shorts that had been lounging below the home kit. What was the point if one couldn't mix and match?
Grinning, she tugged the respective items off the shelves, feeling eternal bliss come over her with each literal skip towards the cashier. Her newest purchase would be put to great use during the match and most importantly, at home, where she would indulge in the sport with her friends.
So this was it.
The Stretford End loomed upon her, the tall, yet imposing building that housed one of the most iconic stands in all of England. It was here that legends and failures were made, dreams fulfilled or wrecked at either ends of Old Trafford.
It was unbelievable. The noise, the atmosphere, was inconceivable with at least thirty thousand worth of songs and cheers ringing around the stadium, roaring for football as she took her seat.
The crowd was tremendous, baying as soon as the ball had kicked off. But if it pummelled at the ears of Nicole, it seemed to do no harm towards the players.
A roar was all she knew as the crowd stood up. United had the ball on the counter attack, a breakaway spawned by a rough tackle on Sergio Aguero as the ball found it's way to Schweinstieger.
Wordlessly, the combative midfielder turned on his knees, playing a delicate one two that found an onrushing Herrera, bypassing Yaya Toure who had decided to mark the German a second too late.
The final third saw the ball played to Rooney, perfectly executing a cross diagonal pass that Matteo Darmian had the opportunity to take advantage of, shoving Kolarov aside to a chorus of boos from the opposition end.
A hushed silence fell to the Stretford End as the right back curled the ball in. Touch and go. That was what it was.
Mayhem raged in the penalty area as a sea of red and blue battled for the ball. But as the ball ended its flight, only one person managed to step up.
A collective groan was all Nicole could not help but join in as Zabeleta prodded the ball away, nodding it towards the edge of the box.
It was imprecise; the ball was bobbing at an unnatural speed as the bullrushing Rooney closed the distance.
But it was all about the know how as the England captain connected with the spherical object, unleashing one of his famous venomous strikes not seen since his debut.
Mayhem.
Nicole found herself barely unable to breathe, a vision of calm thrown out of the window as she leaped from her seat, unable to believe her eyes.
Top corner.
That was all Old Trafford knew as chaos sprouted around the entirety of the stadium.
Elation slowly washed over her as men and women roared on either side of her, almost drowning out the announcer's emphatic goal announcement. The scorer? Wayne Rooney.
It was then she began to cheer, erupting into her own personal voice and dance as she kept a blissful view of the North Stand where the striker was celebrating, his knockout impression drawing a string of curses from the opposition fans.
This was going to be a day to remember.
She heard it. A commanding whistle that drew the game to a close as Aguero threw a strop on the pitch, his last ditch effort coming to nothing as United players celebrated around him. Time and time again they had barrelled through United's porous defences, only to be thwarted by luck, determination and some screw ups on their parts.
She collected her belongings, wistfully clearing the rubbish that had once comprised of her half time hot-dog snack. That was dinner ruled out, then, with her stomach registering full at the time of 8pm.
Nodding apologetically, the young female moved past the aisle, manoeuvring through the throngs of United fans making their way out of the stadium.
It was over.
A sad sigh was all that accompanied that thought as Nicole strode past Sir Matt Busby Way, her misting eyes looking at the jersey that was underneath the heavy duty jacket she had donned at the steps of the stadium. The weather was unyielding, the famous Manchester chill more pronounced on the United fan as she tried to collect her thoughts.
"Should i?"
It was a question. At 8pm, it was far from late and two hours spent alone in the hotel room did not warm up to her. The weather was frigid, yes, but a quick shopping trip or exploration.
One that would cap off this wonderful day.
Gently, she dug into her purse, her hands wiggling a little as the map from the Hotel Football folks emerged, uncrinkling it with a deft push.
Manchester was huge. That she had to admit as she pored over the entire document, suppressing a little sigh as she tried to find her bearings.
There was the stadium as the starting point. Further out was the Metrolink, a above rail system adjacent to the Tube subway system that served the locals. Not far away was Ayres Road, which had a large Chinese community in it.
Would she?
It was far too late to head out further into Stretford, with only an hour's grace before it would be unsafe for her.
Ayres it was, then.
With a small tug, she folded the map on itself, setting off on a decent pace as she skipped down the road.
She was certainly living the Manchester dream.
Calculations raged in her head as she rounded another corner, her brief glance at her watch providing the means as she did the maths.
Ayres was no more than five minutes away. And at 8.30pm, she still had one and a half hour to drink in the culture of the firmly rooted Chinese community in the area. Perhaps she would even find local Singaporeans amongst them.
A scratch. And then every fiber of her being went into full alert as she held her bag protectively in front. It was not a lawless place. But Manchester had its fair share of do-badders that would have about no less than a hundred ways with a female tourist at this time of the night.
Crk.
There it was again, the sound more pronounced and festering as she scoured around frantically for its origins.
Her mind was going into overdrive, filled with adrenaline as eyes roamed around rows of parked cars. The street was empty, the industrial buildings on either side closed for the day. So what was it?
A weapon was all she could have wished for now as the tourist backed away, fighting her innate urge to investigate the unholy disturbance. Stop it. Nothing good can come out of this.
With a hestitant step, she found herself moving forward, adrenaline winning over logic as her heartbeat quickened. God. This was crazy. It was crazy. Just stop. Stop moving.
Her legs were betraying her, the sound almost calling out to her as she discerned it to be roughly in what was a type faced lonely path that a Peugeot 205 concealed.
Gently, she eased herself in, inserting herself into what was once of Stretford's shipping industrial pathways. God in heaven. Why was the sound so.. persuasive?
That all ended as a yellow object made her way across her face, the smooth texture dulling her sense of panic as a warm glow reached out to her, enveloping what seemed to be the entirety of the slipway.
A force was all she knew as she reached out, watching with dignified horror as her limbs sought out the light, compelled by forces unknown that seemed to override her muscular controls.
It was the last thing she would know as it swallowed her entirely, leaving the street utterly empty as it had been a few hours ago.