A/N: So I've written this chapter for a while and I don't remember why I never posted it. This story has been indefinitely stalled for a while and I'm contemplating of continuing it. Let me know if this has readers interested for a continuation.
"Ladies & Gentlemen, We are now approaching Barcelona where the local time is 09:00 in the morning..."
The flight attendant's voice fades into the present as Amy wakes up from a very uncomfortable sleep.
To say Amy dislikes flying is an understatement and waking up midair is absolutely not Amy's favourite thing. She's not really afraid, she just prefers to get knocked out before take-off and then be woken up after landing. She usually takes a sleeping pill with her, a medication introduced by her ex-husband, everytime she goes on air travel; which isn't as often in the last few years after her company has stabilized and established its base in New York. However, with all the commotion with Becca and the last minute packing that morning, she forgot the pills and the alternative given to her by the flight attendant was disappointingly not strong enough.
She hears the tone that signals the end of the announcement and suddenly feels more aware of how distant she is from the ground.
This trip is not starting out good. She thinks to herself as she slides up her spongebob sleeping mask. Its a gift from her daughter. She opens her window and immediately regrets that decision when the sunlight almost blinds her.
"Ah fuck." She grumbles, her australian accent more noticeable in her candid moments. Living in New York for the past 8 years had her adapting into a semi-New York accent. Becca loves mocking her accent, how its in between New York and Australian. She doesn't think it's funny, but her best friend finds it hilarious.
She sits up from her business-class seat and takes a deep breath, her exhale blowing away the hair on her face. She takes her mask off completely and ties her shoulder-length bob into a messy bun, her bangs swept on the side. She cut her hair off after the divorce because according to Stacie, the first step to moving on is a haircut. The logic behind that is not exactly clear, but she was quite desperate at the time and took the advice. She even contemplated changing hair color, but that seemed taking it too far and so she kept her golden locks.
She scrambles to find her phone, turning back and forth, left and right in her seat then finally catching a glimpse of it beneath her bag. She grabs it and checks the time. 1am.
"What?" she exclaims in surprise. She realizes she hasn't adjusted to Barcelona time when the plane announcement tone comes back on.
"We are now preparing to land. At this stage you should be in your seat with your seatbelt firmly fastened..."
She realized this is going to be her first landing in years and quickly fastened her seatbelt at the dreadful thought.
"Oh God, let me live.." she mutters as the announcement ends. She finishes packing her hand bag, checking she's got her passport and immigration documents ready and shoves them haphazardly into her bag.
This trip ain't great yet
She thinks with an exasperated sigh.
This grand european tour started off horribly with an 8-hour delay. It's not the delay that pisses her off actually. She expected a possible 4-6 hour delay, the average based on her experience. What ticks her off is that she was really looking forward to the few hours of strolling the street of Barcelona before going to the dock to embark the cruise ship by noon. Now that her cushion had burst, she'll have to go straight to the dock.
"Fucking Spanish punctuality." She lets out, garnering attention from some of the spanish crew.
The seatbelt light turns on and she grips her armrest for support.
"This trip better get its shit together or so help me God." she thinks to herself, her grip tightening as the aircraft starts losing altitude.
"Barcelona sucks." is the first thing Becca hears as she answers Amy's call.
"What happened now?" her tone in between concerned and skeptic. Her friend has a talent for exaggeration,which is probably why she's so successful in her advertising career, and so she cannot believe anything she says right away without having an explanation first.
"YOU.." Amy half shouts into her phone. "..forgot my sleeping pills. I had to be awake for LANDING." Becca had to distance her phone from her ears as Amy fully shouted the last word.
"You've landed safely in Barcelona!" Becca chirpily replies, trying to steer her friend to a happier thought knowing full well her efforts had a minute chance.
"THAT is your takeaway from what I said?" Amy asks irritably.
"Okay. The pills are my fault. Sorry about that..." Becca apologizes calmly, "But I don't see how this sums up Barcelona?"
"I am 8 hours delayed. I can't go strolling in Barcelona anymore, my blue suitcase has lost a wheel, and my other suitcase is lost. BARCELONA SUCKS!" Amy can't contain her emotions anymore. She is practically spitting at her phone in annoyance and people at the airport are starting to look at her.
"What are you looking at?" She aggressively taunts a passerby who was giving her weird looks. She is really tired, jetlagged and undeniably pissed.
"Okay.. Okay.. Calm down." Becca tries to pacify her. "I will contact the airlines and make sure you get your luggage back. In the meantime, don't think about it and try to enjoy the rest of your vacation. It's just beginning.. Chill."
"Chill? Don't think about it? Seriously?" Amy asks, her irritation still overwhelming her.
"Stop repeating what I say." Becca tells her. "It doesn't make anything better."
Amy lets out an audible sigh. She does have a point.
"Think of this as an excuse to go on a european shopping trip." Beccca knows if she pulls out the shopping card Amy will calm down.
"Oh I will... But I'm charging it to your card. I still have it." Amy says and drops the call.
But Becca didn't expect that revelation. Shit. Now it's gonna cost me even more. Becca thinks to herself.
"Is that Amy?" her husband stirs beside her, probably woken up by the hysterical call.
"Yep. She's already in Barcelona." Becca answers with a yawn. The call arrived at 3 in the morning and she's readying herself to get back to sleep.
"Is she on the boat already?" Jesse asks with eyes closed.
"No. She just arrived at the airport."
"Wow. She's already shouting at the airport? What more when she sees Bumper?" and then he turns away from Becca for a more comfortable position.
Crap. She almost forgot about that.
There's a clicking sound as she drags her now-single-wheeled suitcase around the airport. She lethargically walks toward the exit in her shirt, jeans and cardigan ensemble. Her bumblebee shades hiding the annoyance in her eyes accentuated by her jetlag induced eyebags; her hair still pulled up in a bun. The overall look sums up her mood pretty accurately: tired and frustrated.
"Buenos Dias Madam!" a hunky spanish airport officer greets her with a smile.
On a normal day, she'd probably flirt with him. Maybe bat her lashes a bit. But with how her day is starting, she's too tired and pissed to bother.
"Yeah yeah whatever..." walking past him as she goes through the exit.
The cruise package Becca purchased already includes the airport transfer to the dock but she forgot to ask the specifics and now she is standing at the arrival area looking for no one in particular.
"Mrs. Allen?" she turns to find a man in uniform asking her from behind.
"Yes?" She asks back, unsure if this is already her ride.
"Are you Mrs. Patricia Allen?" she cringed at the sound of her name.
"Yes. That's me." she answers him.
"I'm Enrico. The driver from the cruise." he answers in an accent she can't quite recognize but shakes his extended hand anyway.
"Oh. Right." relieved it didn't take her much time to find him. "Where do we go?"
"The car is right there." He points towards the black mini cooper parked only a few meters from them.
She wasn't expecting a limo, but she wasn't prepared for a tiny car as well.
"Cute." She says with a grimace and then hands Enrico her luggage.