Holiday In Cambodia

"This is the final boarding call for American Airlines flight A139 to Hong Kong. The final boarding call..."

Jason White sat hunched forward on his plastic seat in the departure lounge at San Francisco International Airport, his head in his hands as he stared at the tiled floor and listened to Rob Cavallo talking maniacally into his cell phone.

"Well, tell him to hurry the fuck up then. I don't care if it's rush hour, he should have got out of fucking bed earlier... Jason and I have been here two hours already... Why? Cause that's what time check in was... Yes. Jesus Christ, it's not difficult..."

Rob sighed as he hung up, and Jason raised his head to look at him.
"That was Claudia," Rob explained, bitterly, "Apparently Mr. Cool is on his way. But there's no way he's going to make this flight."
"Great."
"I think I'm going to have to get on it with the rest of the crew," Rob sighed, running a hand through his hair, his face creased with stress, "Someone needs to be in Hong Kong on time to sort out the mess that's going to result from the band being late for all their appointments."
"When's the next flight out?"
"Two hours from now. You want to wait for it, or come with me?"

Jason frowned, thoughtfully, looking ahead at the steady stream of people, frantically wheeling their luggage towards the terminal, checking their watches with almost every other step.

He had felt enough of an outsider lately, the reaction of the public towards his increasing involvement with the band having been less than positive, and he didn't think turning up on a different flight to the others was going to help any with his feeling of distance.

"I think I'll wait for Tre and catch the next flight out with the guys," he said, eventually.
"No problem. I'll have someone meet you at the other end. Where did Mike and Billie Joe get to?"
"Uh... Billie Joe was in duty free. I think he wanted to pick something up for Adrienne. Then Mike went looking for him."
Rob rolled his eyes.
"Forget making you an official member of the band, Jase," he said, with a wry smile, "I'm warming more to the idea of just kicking one of the others out and having you replace them. The only trouble is deciding which one..."

Mike sidled into the duty free store with his hands in his pockets, grinning when he spotted Billie Joe idly browsing the perfume section, apparently unaware he was being observed by a small group of eagle-eyed teenagers peering over from the aisle behind him.

"Hey Bill," he muttered, as he got closer, "What did I tell you? You do baseball cap, or you do shades. Together, you are not inconspicuous. You couldn't look more backstage-at-MTV if you tried."
Billie Joe offered Mike a lop-sided grin.
"I don't think I'm in any danger of being mistaken for a member of N Sync. Tre here yet?"
"Nope. But I just heard last call."
"Fuck, Rob's gonna be pissy. Where the hell is Tre?"
"I just called his cell, he's on the freeway. And Rob's having a fucking cow. We should get out there cause, right now, I think Jason's taking full impact."
Billie Joe sighed.
"Okay," he said, "Let's go take off some of the heat."

Returning to the departure lounge, Mike and Billie Joe were surprised to find Jason alone.
"Hey man, where did everybody go?" Billie Joe asked, taking a seat next to him.
"They caught the flight," Jason explained, "Tre wasn't gonna make it."
"Fuck, is he gonna get an earful when we get there," said Mike, sitting down on the other side of Jason, "So now what?"
"We wait for Tre to grace us with his presence, then we catch number A243," said Jason, "Anyone want to come for a smoke while we wait?"
"Sure man, definitely," said Billie Joe, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket, "Six hours on a plane takes some preparation."
"I thought Adie said you quit, Billie," Jason commented, lifting an eyebrow.
"Yeah, cause that's what he told her," Mike smirked.

Jason shook his head, smiling as they looked up to see a very flushed and frantic-looking Tre Cool barrelling towards them, dragging his luggage behind him, his eyes searching the airport lounge frantically behind his shades.

"Tre!" Mike exclaimed, "Long time, no see!"
"Fuck," Tre groaned, dropping his luggage and sinking down on top of it, "I'm so fucking sorry, you guys... did I make the flight?"
Billie Joe smirked, as he put an unlit cigarette in his mouth and took out a lighter.
"Do any of us look like we made the flight?"
Tre groaned again, running a hand through his dishevelled mohawk.
"I didn't get to bed till five, and then my alarm didn't go off. Claudia woke me up telling me Rob wanted to know where in the name of fuck I was, so I told her to tell him I was in the car, like, en route..."
"Yeah, and it went over real well," Jason smiled, wryly.

They were interrupted by an exceptionally well-groomed male flight attendant, who stopped in his tracks as he walked past the four band mates, eyeing them in a way that suggested he felt they were spoiling the scenery.

"You can't smoke in here," he said, looking pointedly at Billie Joe, who raised an eyebrow as he took the unlit cigarette back out of his mouth and held it in front of him.
"Who's smoking?"
The flight attendant bristled, stalking off as Billie Joe and Jason smirked after him.

Two hours later, the guys were finally on a plane bound for Hong Kong. Minutes after finding their seats, Tre had already managed to break the remote for the TV so that it was stuck on a channel completely in Mexican Spanish, and Mike was halfway through his well-practised rant about airline coffee.

Billie Joe let out a deep breath as he turned to the window. It was a characteristically foggy summer's day in San Francisco, and it didn't take long for the Bay Bridge to become completely obscured by mist as they climbed into the sky.

He felt a familiar ache in his heart as he watched Oakland become slowly painted over in splotches of white, knowing that, underneath the clouds, his kids were out playing in his backyard, arguing over baseball, while Adrienne made their dinner, just like she would every day for the two months until he came home again.

"... I mean, what the fuck, dude. Look at the colour of this stuff!"

Billie Joe turned his attention back to Mike, as Jason's head appeared above the seat in front.
"Try adding mine to it," he said, "I don't feel like it and it might make it stronger."
"You legend," said Mike, taking the coffee that was being offered, "Thanks"
"Hey, you guys," said Tre, suddenly, looking up from the book he was holding, "Yahuh mo fong a be zau ceng."

Three pairs of eyes stared back at him, eyebrows raised.
"It means, 'I would like to buy two beers' in Cantonese. Sometimes, I don't know how you boys would get by without me."
"Tre everyone in Hong Kong speaks English," said Jason, with a smile, "And without you, we'd be speaking English in Hong Kong about two hours earlier."
"And you wonder why the rest of the world thinks Americans are arrogant?" Tre asked, with a smile.

Mike grinned, listening to his band mates' steady flow of conversation as he poured Jason's coffee into his own, spilling a little as the plane levelled off.

He had just become drawn into his second, terrible in-flight movie when the sound was cut and interrupted by a familiar high-pitched tone, and he looked up at the sound of the announcer's cheery voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we regret to inform you that we have experienced a double engine failure. There is absolutely nothing to worry about, as the plane can run perfectly on the remaining two engines, however, we will be reducing our speed as we near Hong Kong, and expect to arrive approximately forty minutes later than scheduled. Thank you!"

Mike gripped the armrest, digging his nails into the material. Double engine failure? He nudged Billie Joe, who was sleeping soundly behind his eye mask.

"Hmuh?" Billie Joe muttered, uncovering his eyes as he raised his head.
"Double engine failure. Forty minutes behind schedule," Mike reported, a little nervously.
Billie Joe stretched.
"Jeez, Rob's gonna be even happier... Hey, don't worry, Mike. Planes have four engines, right? What's the movie like?"
"I don't know, some Adam Sandler balls."
Billie Joe chuckled, closing his eyes again.
"See you in HK."

The plane hit turbulence as it flew over the South China Sea, with passengers becoming increasingly nervous and increasingly anxious to land in one piece. Jason was the only one awake in first class, so it seemed, although it baffled him that anyone could sleep with the plane shaking around them.

Trying to keep his focus away from his nerves, he concentrated on folding his pretzel packet into squares as the other band members slept around him. At the sound of the announcer, they stirred.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing a few problems with a severe weather system in Hong Kong airspace. With reduced power from engines, it is no longer possible to negotiate this, and we are sorry to inform you that it will be necessary to make an emergency landing at Phnom Penh airport in Cambodia. Please don't worry, we will land safely in Cambodia, and American Airlines will do it's best to fix up connecting flights for all passengers as soon as possible."

Swallowing, Jason swivelled in his seat as the plane filled with concerned murmurs, and he turned to see all three guys staring back at him, wordlessly, before Tre spoke up.

"Where the fuck is Cambodia?"

***
Amber stirred, opening her eyes a crack as she heard the first sounds from the street below beginning to drift up through the open window. Having spent the past few weeks on a small island just off the coast of Thailand, she had been left sleeping lightly, unused to the sounds of civilisation that arrived with dawn.

Her body was sticky from the humidity in the room, the air thick and almost damp enough to drink, and she groaned as she pushed Jack away from her, the extra body heat the last thing she needed or wanted.

Sitting up in bed, she blinked at the first milky light that filtered through the dirty windows, before stumbling over to the sink to splash some lukewarm water onto her face. Civilisation definitely did not mean luxury.

She turned at the sound of Jack mumbling into his pillow.
"Are you awake?" she whispered.
"Yeah," he muttered, "And I feel like shit. How much did I drink last night?"
Amber smiled.
"You aren't hung over, Hon," she told him, "You didn't drink anything. I think the only thing that was toxic was the air in this room."

He groaned, and she took a bottle of mineral water out from her backpack and passed it to him. He made a face as he swallowed the warm water, then put up a hand to push his dark hair from his forehead.
"What day is it?" he asked, vaguely.
"Um... you know, I have no idea... "

Since she and Jack had arrived in Cambodia, the days had just run together. There was nothing to distinguish one day from the next, and it wasn't as if it mattered enough to either of them for them to attempt to keep track.

She crawled across the bed and stuck her head out of the window, where the street below was just beginning to come to life. She checked her watch. Five thirty.

"I think it's time to move on, Jackster," she said, "This place is infested with all kinds of crap. Agreed?"
"Definitely fucking agreed," he nodded, "I think we should leave before I get tempted by their breakfasts. I'm starved. I swear I haven't eaten in, like, a week or something... "
Amber gave him a look.
"Like you could go a week," she smirked, "And you polished off three cheeseburgers with Rick down at Sisowath Quay last night."
"Who the fuck is Rick?"
"Y'know that guy we met? He's staying here too? Tall... Australian... gay... "
"Oh, that guy. Shit, I was really stoned last night... "
"Hence the three cheeseburgers. And probably why you feel sick."
"We should ask if Rick wants to move on with us," said Jack, yawning as he crawled out of bed, "God, I need some air."
"Why don't you take our stuff and go get some, and I'll check out and meet you outside the guesthouse?"
"Good plan," he smiled, kissing her, "You know, without you looking after me, I reckon I'd probably have just died the moment we left UK airspace."

Jack lit up a joint as he sat on the steps outside the guesthouse, taking a deep drag and holding it in his lungs as he relished in the feel of air against his skin. He knew he had to savour the feeling. Soon, the sun would be right up, and the air would be like a furnace again.

The sound of an exasperated groan from a nearby phone box suddenly attracted his attention. He looked up from the pavement to see a guy apparently struggling to operate the phone, and getting increasingly worked up about it.

Swaying a little as he walked, he approached the guy from behind and tapped him on the shoulder.
"You okay?"

The guy turned around. Short, with dark hair that fell across his forehead, he fixed Jack with anxious green eyes that immediately registered a flicker of hope.
"Oh my fucking God," he breathed, "You speak English."
"I am English," said Jack, lazily, leaning against the wall, as he took another drag on his joint.
"Even better. I just ran all the way from the airport which apparently doesn't have any fucking phones that work, and now I'm here and all I wanna do is call to see where in the name of fuck my guitar is, and I can't get the damn phone to do anything but gabble at me in fucking Chinese... "
"It's Khmer," Jack corrected.

Billie Joe paused, momentarily distracted by confusion.
"... What?"
"The language. It's not Chinese. And, believe it or not, most countries outside of the United States tend not to speak English to one another. Now, let me get this straight. You're trying to phone your guitar."
"What?! Of course I'm not trying to call my fucking guitar-"
"Hey... calm down," Jack assured him, "You know, I smoked this stuff last night down by the river, it made me go a little funny too. My girlfriend said I-"
"For fuck's sake!" Billie Joe exclaimed, "I'm not high I'm pissed off!"

After painfully negotiating a conversation with the girl on the reception desk, Amber headed out of the front door, letting out a breath of relief as fresh air hit her like a brick wall. She looked left and then right as she heard Jack's voice, tangled up with an unfamiliar American one in a tense exchange. As her eyes settled on them standing by the phone box, she started walking quickly towards them.
"Hey," she said, holding up her hands, "What's going on?"

Billie Joe gritted his teeth, praying to whichever God might be listening that this girl would be sane.
"I'm trying to call someone," he said, attempting to calm himself down, "And it won't fucking... work!"
"Okay, okay," Amber assured him, taking the receiver from him, "Where are you calling, USA?"
"It's an American cell phone," he explained, "But it's in Hong Kong."
"Hmm... " said Amber, thoughtfully, "I'm not sure how to do that."
"Okay... " groaned Billie Joe, in exasperation, "How about calling my wife in the US?"
"Okay... you do zero zero one one, see?" Amber explained, "Now... number?"
"510-6563", Billie Joe gabbled.

Amber waited until she heard it ring through, before passing him the receiver back to him.
"Thank you!" he smiled, gratefully, and she waved it away, before turning her attention to Jack, who was still leaning against the wall, smirking a little.
"You could've done that... surely. Were you winding the poor guy up?"
"It was so easy... "
She thumped him, as Billie Joe began talking frantically into the phone.

"Adie? It's me... I'm okay, I'm in Phnom Penh in Cambodia... . We made an emergency landing, but everyone's fine... Yeah, I'm sure... Look, you have to do something for me. Call Rob in Hong Kong, and tell him we're here, and they're connecting us tomorrow... And tell him he needs to find out where our luggage is, cause it was sent on... Yes, our fucking instruments, including Blue... So you need to look up how to call a Cambodian number, then get him to call this call box, which is... 845-8450. Okay, Sweetie?... Thank you... . Yeah, I love you too. Bye."

Billie Joe let out a deep breath as he replaced the receiver, just as Mike, Tre and Jason came around the corner.
"Any luck?" Tre asked, anxiously.
"Adie's gonna sort it and get Rob to call me back on this phone. So, I guess all we can do now is wait here."

Mike sighed, sleepily rubbing his eyes, as Billie Joe turned back to Jack and Amber.
"Thanks a lot," he said, "Sorry I got pissy man, I just panicked. I have no idea where our fucking luggage is, and we have a lot of instruments and shit with us."
"No problem," shrugged Amber, "I hate it when airlines fuck up like that."
"Oh my God, you speak English?" Tre grinned, excitedly.
"We are English," said Jack.
"Awesome," Mike smiled, as the phone rang and Billie Joe pounced on it.

"Rob? ... Oh, thank fuck... !"

He turned away from the phone to face his band mates.
"All our shit arrived in Hong Kong, and it's being taken to the venue," he reported.

The guys let out breaths of relief as Billie Joe went back to the phone.
"Okay. Hotel what?... Let me write that down."

Pulling a pen from his back pocket, he balanced the phone in the crook of his neck as he scrawled the information amongst the tattoos on his forearm, finally hanging up and turning to Jack and Amber again.

"Are you guys busy?" he asked, sheepishly, "Cause we could really use your help... "