September 2004. Sydney, Australia.
"I'm sorry miss," the woman behind the front desk said. "My system tells me that your card is out of funds."
"That's impossible," I said to her. "There should be at least four thousand U.S. dollars on that card."
She slipped it through the teller again. "I'm sorry miss, but it just says 'Insufficient Funds'. There's nothing I can do."
"I have to make this flight. Can't you charge it to credit or something?"
"Miss, we cannot charge a United States credit card at an airport."
I conceded. "Fine. Thanks for your help."
I walked over to the bench by the luggage train. I guess I was missing that interview in Los Angeles, because there's no way I'm letting Gran fly out there tomorrow. Not with my father's wrath waiting for us.
"Are you alright?" I looked up and saw a woman standing above me. She was wearing a blue shirt over a tan dress and her hair was blonde.
"Yeah, I'm peachy," I said.
"Is there anything I could do to help?"
"Not unless you've got an extra ticket to Los Angeles or two thousand dollars you could give me," I muttered sarcastically.
"Hold on a tick," she said and walked away.
I sat there, waiting for her to return. There's no way she was going to buy me a ticket, was there?
She was back in seconds. In her hand was a wad of cash. She handed it to me.
I counted the money. Two thousand dollars. "I can't take this!" I said to her standing up, holding it out to her.
She put her hands up in protest. "I saw your bag," she said pointing at my suitcase where the army logo was hanging off a tag on the side. "Did you serve?" she asked.
"Yes, but that's not important. Please take this back. I was joking."
"No you weren't," she said, ignoring my thrusting hand. "Thank you for your service. Maybe I'll see you around L.A. sometime."
I was speechless. All I could muster out of my mouth was "I don't even know your name."
"It's Libby," she said.