Johnnie Walker's Prescription

- Johnnie -
"Gate A4," the lady behind the desk said. Johnnie almost felt bad for "Marie," as her nametag said. Having to wear that short blue hat, and the blue scarf which was tied around her neck. Also the tight blue uniform. Too much blue, he thought. Johnnie understood it was JetBlue, the airline, but why so much of the same color? Was it really so necessary? Can't they put some aqua in it? Turquoise? Cerulean? Aquamarine? Anything but the basic color of blue?
"Thank you," he replied, taking his ticket, taking a look at it. He hasn't been on a plane in years. Since what, he was twelve? Thirteen? No later than fourteen. Almost a decade, he hasn't been in the air.
He walked over to gate A4, the air conditioning in the airport fighting off the heavy Arizona heat outside. It was nice, the sweat on the back of Johnnie's neck was clearing up. Pretty soon he'd have to put on his favorite brown jacket, the one he's had for five years- since he was seventeen.
Sitting down in the leather blue seats (the constant view of blue was starting to nauseate him), Johnnie Walker leaned back and yawned, barely awake. He's been at the Phoenix-Mesa Airport since three in the morning, and in four hours, he's accomplished confirming his I.D. (his passport), baggage check, and getting his ticket. It amazed him how early you had to be at airports for flights that wouldn't happen until five hours later.
7:13, Johnnie's watch read. His plane was scheduled to leave in approximately twenty-seven minutes. Wondering whether or not to leave to leave his stuff here, the twenty-two year old male stood up, stretched, and started looking for a store to eat at. Minnie's, Angela's, Ray's, all the Starbuck-related small shops were of no interest to Johnnie as he craved a bagel, looking for a decent looking place to eat. His dinner last night was cereal, and a sandwich the night before. Johnnie wasn't the cooking kind of guy; too much work, and it required washing dishes, something else he didn't like to do. He usually occupied himself with other work to do, like taxes, or looking for a good movie. Procrastination was a big part of his life. He almost lost his chance at college because he submitted his application at the very last minute, literally minutes before midnight, the official time due date.
Johnnie walked down the somewhat quiet, white and slick tiled hallway of Phx-Mesa. There were some people in the stores, no doubt all from Arizona. The state wasn't really a tourist one, there were a lot on cons. Too hot, not enough action, bordered with Mexico (a racist con), and more. Finally, Johnnie settled with a small bakery named Michael's Bakery, and walked in. It had no door, it was an open door on the right side of the airport hallway, which was filled with tourist shops and other small stores.
"Welcome to Michael's Bakery, how may I help you?" a lady in brown and green asked. Finally, no more blue, Johnnie thought.
He sighed, and answered. "Can I have a-" Johnnie was momentarily interrupted by his yawning. "Sorry. Can I have a... Buttered croissant?" While the lady was punching in buttons on the cash register, Johnnie took the time to quickly walk over to the mini freezer where they keep their cold, not-so-healthy drinks. Thinking about it, Johnnie passed the freezer and went to their open drink selection next to the register and took two lemonades, putting them on the counter where the register sat, in front of the clerk.
"That'll be four fifty," she said. Johnnie tiredly put a five dollar bill on the counter, got his change, and patiently waited for the clerk to bag his things. When she was done, he took the bag, thanked her, and walked out of Michael's, feeling a little more awake.
Sighing, he sat back down in his original seat, arranged his carry-on near his leg and started drinking his first lemonade. The cold would keep him awake, at least until his flight was ready. Only twenty minutes had passed, and Johnnie looked around, having really nothing to occupy himself with.
"Is this your first time?" a voice asked. Johnnie turned his head left to the sound of the voice, and it was an old lady. She had curly gray hair, rosy cheeks, blue pants and a matching floral shirt, and multiple pearl necklaces. She could be a 50's grandmother.
"Pardon?" Johnnie asked, widening his eyes. The lemonade had yet to kick in.
"Is this your first time?" the old lady repeated. "To the greatest city on earth?" Johnnie's mouth was a little open for no reason, and he was looking at the old lady, but his mind was blank. Blinking twice, he came back to reality, apologized, and replied.
"The greatest city on earth?" he asked.
"Why New York City, of course!" she said in a "Duh" kind of tone. "That's what this flight is for, isn't it? Oh, am I in the correct gate?"
"New York, yeah, we're headed to the same place," Johnnie said, eyes barely open. "Greatest city on earth, yeah." The lady giggled.
"Somebody's tired," she commented, and Johnnie made a face that said "Yeah, that's about it." "Well what's your reason for going to the Big Apple?"
"It's a reason not worth sharing," Johnnie replied. "Something only my generation would do."
"So... Something stupid?" the lady asked. Johnnie laughed, nodding.
"Yeah,"
"Care to share? I'm a good listener!" she smiled at him, her cheekbones showing more.
"Johnnie," he said, sticking out his hand. "Johnnie Walker."
"Like the beer?" the lady asked, shaking his hand, saying her name was Grace.
"Actually, it's blended Scotch Whiskey, but beer is close," he replied, smiling. "So, Miss Grace, what's your reason for booking an unreasonably early flight to the supposed greatest city on earth?"
Grace smiled. "Well, I'm actually traveling with my husband."
"Cool, is he like, getting something to eat?" Johnnie asked, yawning. He scanned the airport: Half dead people practically sleepwalking to their designated gate, little children either getting carried by their parents or running around the place, and sleeping passengers in the same blue seats as Grace and Johnnie.
"Actually... He's right here." She took something out of her big purple purse, what Johnnie recognized as the little vase where a person's ashes were kept- what was it called? He couldn't recall the name of the vase.
"They let you on the plane with that?" he asked.
"After much convincing, yes," she replied, putting her husband back in her purse.
"Well, uh... Sorry for your loss...? I'm not good at these things," Johnnie said, wanting to slap himself for sounding so stupid.
"It's okay, dear. He's been dead for about a year now," Grace sighed. "We're going to New York for our wedding anniversary, in three days. The city was his favorite place." she beamed, staring at the blue carpeted floor.
"Well, that's nice," Johnnie said. Way better than my reason.
"And your reason?" Grace asked, expecting her side of the bargain.
"Uh..." Johnnie racked his brain for a better reason than the truth. "My sister. She's in New York. I'm visiting for the holidays."
"I see..." Grace said, nodding. "I'm sorry... What holiday is it, exactly, you're visiting her for?"
"Oh. Uh..." The date was May 3rd, 2012. Nice one, Johnnie. "It's a holiday we invented. Scottish Day. To celebrate our... Ancestors... You know, the original Johnnie Walker and everything?"
Grace looked at Johnnie.
Johnnie looked at Grace.
"Alright, fine, you got me," Johnnie sighed. "I'm flying to New York to... Meet with an old friend of mine."
"Does she know you're coming?" Grace asked. Johnnie put on a confused expression.
"How'd you know it was a she?" he asked.
"No young man flies to the other side of the country for no reason," she said. "Girls are always the reason why."
"So I guess 1920 and 2012 really haven't changed, huh?" Johnnie asked, making Grace laugh.
"I'm not that old, now. Any who, is she your girlfriend?"
"No," Johnnie automatically denied the assumption. "Just a friend. And it's a surprise. She doesn't know I'm coming."
"Well that's nice," Grace smiled. Johnnie nodded, reaching for his croissant. "When was the last time you saw her?"
"Um..." Johnnie quickly calculated the years in his head. "About six years. We haven't spoken since or anything, so this is going to be quite the surprise..."
"Why, you are quite the gentleman, then," Grace smiled. On the overhead speakers, a lady said for first class fliers to start boarding Johnnie and Grace's plane. "Well, this is me. My first first class flight in ages. It was a pleasure meeting you, Jonathan." she stuck out her hand, and Johnnie shook it, not caring that this nice old lady had called him by his first full name.
"You too, Grace." he said, and with that, she left with her small black suitcase and her purse with her husband's ashes. More awake now, probably from talking with Grace, Johnnie sat straight up, suddenly aware of what he was doing. He hadn't seen Jaycee since they were sixteen, and took that class trip to "The Greatest City on Earth." How was she going to react? Surprised for sure, but if she was the same Jaycee, she'd replace surprised with some other emotion. With her, it was a wild card. Was she going to be upset? Happy? Enraged? Maybe even relieved? Who knows, maybe she'd let him explain himself for what had happened six years ago. Why he never texted back, always avoided her... She needed answers, and Johnnie knew that. Or maybe she didn't want answers and instead kicked him out, never to be heard from again?
Johnnie set his worries aside, and started lining up to get on his plane, flying business class. He already paid for his plane ticket; why try to refund it and spend months regretting his decision to not see Jaycee?
The airport was eerily quiet, except for rolling luggages and the crunching of cookies from the youngsters. Johnnie, now on the plane, sat down in the right aisle, next to the window, as always. It wasn't that he got plane sick, because he didn't; he just liked to look out the window. A man in a business suit with a laptop tucked under his arm smiled at Johnnie, sitting down next to him in the middle seat, and a young woman sat next to the businessman. The man buckled his seat belt and set his laptop on the floor, then started looking in his pockets for something. Johnnie didn't have a clear view of the woman, but he could here her talking to somebody in the middle aisle next to them. Leaning back, Johnnie sighed and closed his eyes, knowing there was no way going back now.

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Johnnie got off the plane, liking New York weather way better than Arizona's- it was May, and it actually felt like spring, rather than the heat that seemed to have the temperature of the the depths of Hell back home. Yawning, getting only a little shut-eye during the flight, he waited for his two other suitcases, the ones too heavy to carry himself on the plane. He had almost lost one (another man took his suitcase), but the situation was solved, and Johnnie hailed taxi outside. After much waiting, a yellow, Ford brand taxi pulled up to him, the driver having a bushy, untamed beard and an Indian accent.
"West 52nd Street, please" Johnnie told the driver after he put his suitcases in the trunk. The driver nodded, and started driving.
Johnnie unlocked his iPhone 5 (a gift from his uncle, congratulating Johnnie on his employee of the year for his company, who highly valued the company), and went to his contacts, scrolling down the list to J. After all these years, and she still had the same number. The only reason he was able to track her down was because of her older brother by four years, Raleigh. Raleigh was able to give him Jaycee's home and work address. Her work address was actually in her friend's house, not too far from her penthouse (how could she afford a penthouse, Johnnie wondered when he first heard she had one). His loft was big enough for whatever work she did.
His thumb, the nail bitten down to a nub, hovered over the pixelated name of Jaycee O'Callaghan, no picture. Should he call? Would she still even has his number? She surely would've deleted it by now, she doesn't like holding onto the old things in life. But, what if she changed? It was been six years, the transformation from teen to young adult wasn't exactly a small change.
He locked his phone before doing something stupid such as calling her and shoved it in his pocket, looking out the window. They were on the highway, and the price was already up to six dollars, fifty cents. Prices in big cities always baffled Johnnie. Why so much for a ride? He knew the distance from JFK Airport to the Upper West Side was big, about an hour long, but the prices were getting more unreasonable everyday.
He decided to take another nap, wanting to fill in on his rest. Although it was loud outside, rush hour just getting started, Johnnie was a sucker for car ride naps. He leaned against the left window, his temple getting cold from the impact despite the warm weather outside, and had no problem drifting off.

An hour later, the cab driver woke Johnnie up by yelling at him to get up. He obeyed, waking up, rubbing his eyes, and looking out the window. There he was, at the Archstone Clinton Penthouse. Paying the driver the $52 he owned, Johnnie stepped out of the taxi, almost forgetting his suitcases in the back. After taking them out, the taxi sped away, leaving Johnnie on the sidewalk in front of the busy street with zooming cars.
His brown jacket flapped as a strong wind blew by, as his hair. His hands gripped his suitcases, the phone in his pocket suddenly feeling heavy for no apparent reason. Maybe it was haunting him for not calling before coming, like a normal person would've done.
Too bad Johnnie didn't consider himself as normal.
Looking back at his messages from Raleigh, he stepped into the penthouse lobby, the security guard looking at him with confusion from behind his large, U-shaped marble desk.
"Can I help you?" he asked. He was an African American man with a deep voice and a shiner for a head, and was reading the New York Times.
"Yeah, you actually can," Johnnie walked up to him, his sneakers not making much sound on the polished marble floor that was a bit lighter than the color of the desk. His suitcases rolled with ease. "Does a woman named Jaycee O' Callaghan live here?"
"Why?" he asked. His name tag read Omar.
"I'm here to visit, I'm a friend of hers," Johnnie replied, half lying.
"A friend," he asked, but more in the tone of a statement. "So if I call her penthouse right now, she'd agree?"
"Umm... Do you absolutely have to call her? It's kind of a surprise..." Johnnie trailed off. Omar's strict expression didn't change.
"Come here," he said. Johnnie raised his eyebrows.
"Pardon?" he asked.
"I said, come here. Do you have hearing problems of some sort?" Omar snapped. Jesus, Johnnie thought. Talk about having your panties in a bunch. Nonetheless, he walked up to Omar, and the security guard, at least six foot five, stood up and began searching Johnnie. He patted his pockets, his jackets, asked for Johnnie to take off his shoes, asked to look through his suitcases- like at the airport. Once he was cleared and was extremely uncomfortable, Johnnie asked if he could go now.
"Sure. She's on the top floor," Omar said, sitting back in his desk. As Johnnie was gathering his things, the guard spoke again: "Just remember one thing- if there is any trouble while you're up there, or you make Miss O'Callaghan upset, I know how to work a revolver, and there's a shovel in my car." Johnnie nodded, took his three suitcases, and walked to the elevator, pressing the button. The bronze doors opened automatically with a ding, and he stepped in. He turned around to see a very straight face of Omar, before the elevator doors closed and sent Johnnie upstairs to his old time friend, Jaycee O'Callaghan.