(Heather's P.O.V.)

3 a.m. Ugh! I hate these stupid flights! Reminds me of that stupid jet of Chris the Creep! I should've sued him while I had the chance.
"Flight 314 is ready and departing for Barcelona!" said the announcements over the intercom. If I had stayed a little longer, my plane's pilot would've heard the news about the storm.
"Attention passengers, we are under a storm watch. Please make sure you are seated and do not move!" the flight attendant announced. Unfortunately, I was in the restroom.
"So now you tell me!" I growled. Suddenly, the plane jerked and I hit the side of the bathroom stall. After that, I was unconcious for the rest of the flight.
"Ma'am. Ma'am, you're flight has landed," said a tall, tanned, and young girl flight attendant.
"Ugh! What the hell is wrong with that pilot?" I grumbled. I left down the flight stairs and before me were loads of people. A party was being thrown, but for what? It was the fifth of May.
Fiesta music was playing and suddenly it it me. I had ended up all the way in Spain.