A Light on in Chicago

The next week and a half passed swiftly for the girls in Chicago. They packed up a few travel belongings, went on temporary leave from the bookstore, and made sure that their families knew they would be out of town. Before they could fully realize it, it was the day before their plane was scheduled to fly to Los Angeles. Marcelle suggested they hit the hay early, since they had to wake up at around 4:30 for their six o’clock flight. Scout agreed, and they went their separate bedrooms to rest soon after they ate supper.

Scout’s alarm went off right on time the next day, and in her groggy state she was very glad to have everything packed or laid out for her to wear. Her slowly-functioning brain could hardly get her showered and dressed without letting her go back to sleep. Marcelle was a much better morning person, so she called the cab and gathered all their bags together. They mat at the door only a few minutes after waking up and said goodbye to the apartment. Then they went downstairs to the cab waiting to take them to the airport.

The flight took about four hours, but with the time difference they arrived in California at a little past eight. Scout slept through the plane ride, only waking up for her least favorite part of the trip, the landing. Once they were allowed to, the girls gathered their carry-on bags and exited the plane. When they reached the landing terminal, they didn’t see any familiar faces, and figured the band couldn’t get this far and would wait for them at baggage claim instead. Seems logical enough, right? Well, that’s not how it happened.

Marcelle dragged Scout, who was still waking up, around the airport to find their bags and their ride out of the over-crowded hell-hole of an airport. She eventually navigated the pair to baggage claim, but couldn’t see the band anywhere. After a few minutes of searching the area, Marcelle went back to Scout.

“Scout, honey, you need to wake up some, okay?” She spoke gently as to not be yelled at by her friend who was definitely not a morning person. “I need you to call one of the guys and figure out where we can meet up. I don’t see them anywhere, and they’re our ride out of this place.”

“Okey-doke, just give me a sec.” a very plainly still half-asleep Scout told her friend. She did pull out her phone and call someone, though, so maybe she wasn’t completely lost to the world. After a short pause, she spoke to whoever was on the other line. “Hey! Peter, Peter, Pumpkin-eater! This is Scout. Where you at? We looked for you at the big roller suitcase thing-a-ma-bob, but you aren’t here!” After a short pause, Scout said “Okay, yeah. Coffee, hair, sunglasses, got it. Bye-bye!”

Marcelle was not happy with what she could hear. What did “coffee, hair, sunglasses” mean? This wasn’t turning out too well. It’s only the first day and the band is lost already! Surely this is was a sign from above warning her as to how the rest of the trip would go. How would she survive? “Scout?” she desperately tried to get some answers out of her friend. “What do we need to do? Where are the guys? Are we gonna be stuck for a while? If so I need coffee”

“Oh that! Well, they went to the wrong terminal, but they’ll be here in a minute. In the meantime, we’re gonna wait for them at Starbucks, so there’s coffee for you. They’ll be the group of guys with awesome hair and sunglasses. Don’t want to get fan-mobbed, you know.” Scout cleared everything up rather quickly, an amazing feat for her sleeping stupor.

The girls took their bags and went into the coffee shop to wait. Marcelle ordered a drink, but Scout preferred to just lean against her friend in a sleepy daze. As they sat and waited, Scout suddenly jumped out of her seat and started yelling and waving like mad.

“Hair! Awesome hair! Marcy that must be them! Hey, Hobo-Joe, we’re over here!” Scouts shouts embarrassed and slightly deafened her friend, but they also gained the attention of the band. They quickly walked over to the girls’ table, looking out all the time for people who might recognize it. By the time the made it to the table, Scout was back in sleepy-mode.

Marcelle took the initiative and introduced herself and Scout to the men who had just joined them. “I’m Marcelle, but you can call me Marcy or whatever you want really. Just don’t call me late to dinner!” She laughed a bit at her own joke. “And this is Scout. She doesn’t like plane rides or mornings.”

“Hey now!” the other girl interjected. “I like plane rides just fine. Just not the landing, which happened to be the one part I was awake for. Why, god, why?” She continued to ramble on quietly while the boys introduced themselves unnecessarily.

“Andy. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater, as your friend here so enthusiastically put it. I have a wife and plan to keep her, thank you very much.”

“I’m Hobo-Joe, apparently. Please don’t ask me to shave, okay?” Marcy promised she wouldn’t before the final man eventually spoke up.

“My name’s Patrick. These losers call me all kinds of nick-names though, so it’s okay if you do, too.”

Scout was still a bit in La-la Land. “Patty-cake, Patty-cake. Baker’s man, bake me a cake just as fast as you can…” she mumbled to herself half-asleep before finally seeming to come to her fully-awake senses a few moments later. “Whoa! Fall Out Boy! Um… yeah, sorry about my sleepiness a second ago. I’m a terrible morning person. I wasn’t too bad, was I Marcy?”

“You just gave most of these fine gentlemen your own nickname. Except for Andy. Got anything for him?” her friend teased.

“Hmm… nope, nothing. Guess it’s just a mostly-asleep thing. Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright. So, can we get out of here? Airports, blegh.” Andy made a disgusted face when discussing their settings. The group agreed with him, and they quickly gathered their belongings and left the airport. The boys led the way to a van, and the girls loaded their bags into the back and hopped in. Joe was driving, Andy had called shotgun, Marcelle was in the middle seat talking animatedly with Pete, and Scout shared the back row with Patrick.

“It’s nice to meet you finally. Nice hair, by the way,” Patrick teased.

“Likewise. Yeah, this is what happens when I sleep. Curls Ingrid Bergman would be ashamed of. But I know how to fix it very easily,” and with that, Scout took the fashionable cap off of Patrick’s head and put it on her own. “There. Problem solved.”

“Wait, so what am I supposed to do about my wonderful morning hair now? I could just throw a hat on, but no, you’ve gone and stolen my only-” Patrick shut up rather quickly once Scout solved the problem by shoving his hood over his head. “Oh. That works.”

The bus settled down as everyone got used to the rhythm of the van rolling down the highway. That was, until Marcelle decided to interrupt the peaceful quiet.

“So guys…. Where are we going and what are we doing when we get there?” Marcy always did have a good point.