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The driver tries to suppress a smile, trying to be professional and, for that, he will earn a tip. I let him direct the conversation as we head to the airport. He goes on about the tourists in town, how air quality is now deadly because of the increase of tourism, The DuPont downfalls, and how he drove DuPont’s wife around one day many years ago. She didn’t tip him, which made her a frosty bitch that everyone tried to avoid. Me too, buddy. He talks about his business dreams of recycling trash into jewelry and other items, total hippie through and through.
“So, what are you in town for?” he asks. Finally realizing he’s monopolizing the conversation.
“A funeral,” I blandly state.
A moment of hushed silence fills tiny electric car. I can feel his regret for asking when he speaks next.
“Well, shit, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to not talk anymore,” I reply, hoping he catches on.
“You got it, Mr. Swett.”
I chuckle and turn to look out the window. The changing landscape lulls me into a meditative state. It’s not long before he pulls out in front of the airport, where I drop some cash in his hand. More than he expected.
“Whoa! This is too much!” he expresses.
I laugh and step out of the car with my bags. I am almost at the doors when the driver calls out of the car window.
“Thanks, Mr. Dick Swett!”
I wave over my shoulder and walk right into The Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport in Georgia. I am met with a maze of possibilities as I bypass security.
My phone dings with a message saying Reminder: London, England, flight 830. Leaves in 5 minutes.
I search the board for the flight gate, matching it to the map of the airport. I look down at my watch and curse under my breath, realizing I am pressed for time. Throwing my two carry-on bags over my shoulder, I take off. Dodging people the best I can.
I can make it; I can do this. I need to believe I can get there and throw this bitch off the plane. Free-fall to the depths of hell with me, DuPont.
I’m so distracted, fantasizing about DuPont’s screams as she falls from the sky with no support, that I accidentally run into a small family. The stroller tips over and I jump over it as best I can, falling on my arm with the burn.
“Ah! Fuck!” I gasp, holding my arm.
“Hey!” A large man rushes over to his wife and kid. “Watch where you are walking and your mouth!”
The child in the stroller is screaming, and the mom is scrambling to console her.
“I am so sorry! Are you okay?” I hold my arms up.
“We are okay,” the mom sweetly says. Her eyes tell a different story that would slice through my soul. I would kick my ass if I was in her shoes.
“Is she okay?” I ask cautiously.
“She’s okay,” the mom says.
The dad stands protectively over his wife and child as I help pick up their bags, getting them sorted out. Looking at my watch, I realize the plane is taking off. I missed my moment. I run my fingers through my hair in frustration.
“Just go, jackass. You are making it worse for everyone,” the dad states. He senses my agitation.
I stand and watch them hurry off as the dad looks over his shoulder. He has his hands protectively around his family and gives me dagger eyes. I envy him for having that feeling. Having someone to protect… and love.
My chin trembles with the pain of never having that. That is all I am seeing today. Couples. In. Love.
Seeing as I have missed my flight, I follow them to their gate and watch them get settled, waiting to board. Careful to sit close enough to them to overhear their conversation but not to where they notice me. I need to make it up to them somehow since I was the one who plowed down his wife and kid. I am the asshole here.
I hear them bicker over their horrible family vacation. Mother-in-law badgering the mom about how to be a wonderful mom and wife. Husband, being caught in the middle and finally having to stand up to his mother. Good move, man, good move. The mother was so distraught that her baby boy didn’t take her side she refused to take him and his family to the airport, so he had to call a friend. Mom and Dad are so stressed that it’s projected onto their adorable baby girl. She seems to be a bit more emotional as well, which only adds to their stress. Today has already proven to be a mistake, trying to travel now that they’ve had to cut their trip short and head back home.
I take my phone out and send a message to my contact. Let him know I missed the flight and to book the next one, then instruct him to hack the airport booking system and move this family to first class. I give him the information I overheard. This should allow them some more space and privacy.
