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Of course, they’re staring at you. You’re the only idiotwalking around with a Styrofoam cooler.
When I finally found my gate, there was nowhere to sit, so I had to lean against the wall. I pulled my phone out and texted Denim.
Me: Hi, it’s Quinci. Made it to my gate.I am super,super,supernervous.
Almost immediately, the dots appeared on the screen.
Denim: Nothing to be nervous about. Promise. And I was also nervous because it took you a little while to get checked in. Thought you’d changed your mind.
Me: I wanted to change my mind.My flight landsafter three. Will I be hailing a taxi like S&TC?
Denim: LOL! No. New York today is nothing like Sex and The City. I am so glad that you said that because that is one of my favorite shows. So, I can see us having many girls’ nights together. However, I’ll be picking you up.Safe travels.
Me: Got it.
It wasn’t long before they called for first-class to board the plane.After finding my seat,I put my cooler in the overheadbinand sat down, buckling my seatbelt, kicking my tote under the seat. Looking out the smallwindow,there were other rows of different sized planes. There waseven a smaller plane that looked like a jet. I was feeling claustrophobic on this plane, so I couldn’t imagine riding a jet.
“Good morning. Would you like something to drink before we takeoff?”
I turned around tosee the flight attendant smiling at me. “Oh, um, I think I’m fine. Thank you.”
Behind her a man was waiting to get by. When she moved, heput his dufflebag in the overhead bin and sat down, pulling his computer bag in his lap.The smell of his cologne filled the little space between us. I didn’t realize I was staring until he looked at me and winked, making me turn my head. I immediately felt like a creep.To ease the awkwardness for me, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket tosee a couple ofmessage notifications from my momand Kemba, anda couple of notifications from social media.
“Shoot,” I mumbled.
I opened Kemba’s message thread, typing in the Grove’s social media information, since I wouldn’t be there to accurately run it in real time. He immediately started texting me back.
“Good morning, sir. Would you like a drink beforewe takeoff?”
“Yes, I’ll have a Blood Mary.Two shots.Thank you.”
Oh, God.
The one time I made one of those drinks, Inearly threw up, and my mother banned me from making drinks. I’d made up in my mind that only psychotic people could drink in the morning, let alone drink stinky tomatosoup from a glass.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Kemmy: Um. I don’t even get on my own social media. Do you think that I am going to run this one??You can still do that. I’ll send you someshitto post.
I rolled my eyes at his text.Out the corner of my eye, the man had taken his phone out of his pocket, typing away.I was thankful for my screen protector because I was about to talk about him.
Me: On top of being terrified that I’dbe, like, thethird person to die if this plane tooka nosedive,I nowhave totry and survivethe smell of spicy tomato soup.
Kemmy: wdym?
Me:Sexy ass mannext to meknocked points off hissexiness becausehe drinks tomato soup.He toofinefor that.
The plane jolted slightly, knocking my finger across my screen, and suddenly, Siri started to read my message to Kemba aloud.
“Sexy ass man next to me knockedpoints off his…”
No! No! No!Please.
I tapped the screen of my phone, hard like a madwoman,but it kept going untilshe’d read the last word.
Omg. Omg. Omg. Omg.
Lord, just… that did not happen.
