RockFan
13
Adrienne's POV
I explained to Billie Joe prior to boarding the plane that I needed to work on my article during our flight. I was worried about shutting them out and missing some priceless moments with the band, but I was relieved to discover they all traveled with their iPods. Mike and Tre sat in the row behind Billie and I, and Bill sat a row in front of us. Each of them whipped out their gadgets and placed earbuds in their ears, tuning out their surroundings.
Billie Joe had his iPod on his lap, but he still had not turned it on yet. I think he was waiting until the plane took off to make sure I didn't get scared. He'd offered me the window seat, and I had nervously accepted it. He said the view would be beautiful, and something I should see at least once in my life. I looked out the window now, the plane hadn't even moved, yet I could feel my hands gripping tighter onto the armrests.
Suddenly, I felt Billie Joe's hand on mine, "It's going to be okay, you're going to love it," he told me.
I looked over at him and smiled, but all I could think about was the flight I would have to take back all by myself. I wouldn't have Billie next to me then, caressing my hand and telling me that everything would be fine. Oh well, I couldn't worry about that now, I guess. There was so much to look forward to and so little time; I couldn't wait to get my feet on the ground in California.
A half hour later, with a smooth take off, we were cruising the skies westward. Billie Joe had gotten me through the lift off and then, when he was sure I was okay, he turned on his iPod and put his headphones over his ears. I turned on my laptop, then I pulled my voice recorder out of my purse and plugged my headphones into it. I placed the headphones over my ears and hit play; the interview from yesterday morning began sounding in my ears.
I typed easily, and mostly undistracted. At times, I could feel Billie Joe's eyes watching every word that I typed, but fortunately he didn't say anything. Sometimes, when bands give interviews, they later try to change what they initially said, but Green Day seemed at peace with their responses to my questions. I glanced over at Billie Joe several times during our three and a half hour flight, nearly every time he caught my eye and gave me a sweet, sheepish smile.
*
Billie Joe's POV
The Oakland Airport was jam-packed with people; I took hold of Adrienne's hand to insure we didn't get separated. I kept my eyes on the back of Mike's head, he was the tallest and his bleached hair was the easiest to spot, as we filtered through the crowd, following Bill to our awaiting ride. Because our trip had been so short we didn't need to even stop at the baggage claim, our backpacks had stayed with us the entire flight.
"It's amazing," Adrienne said, awed by the mass of people coming and going to and from Oakland. I looked over at her and grinned; I had reacted quite similarly the first time I had flown too.
"This is nothing, you should see this place the day before Thanksgiving," I told her. She gave me a look that seemed to say she'd rather not.
Once we had gotten outside of the airport we were met by a line of cabs, limos, and SUVs. Bill seemed to know which one was for us and he directed us right to it, a black SUV, similar to the one that had chauffeured us in Minnesota. We all climbed in, our bags on our laps, as our driver cursed at the loitering cab drivers who were blocking his way. We all seemed to find this exceptional hilarious, but we kept our amusement to ourselves; our shoulders shook with bottled up laughter.
The driver had the addresses to our houses. Mike was dropped off first, then Bill, then Tre. Finally, the driver pulled up to the curb below my house. Adrienne opened the car door and hopped out, I handed our driver a twenty-dollar tip then stepped out of the car after her.
"Thank-you, my friend," he called out through the partially open passenger's window, then sped off.
Adrienne looked up at the mansion, she maybe thought it looked grandeur, but I just thought it looked like a big, cold house. I had never put much effort into the place to make it feel homey. I didn't paint the walls, hang many pictures, or even spend too much time here. To me this house was nothing more than an address, a place to get bills and crash every once in a while. I felt more at home in my tour bus.
"It's so...You really live here alone?" Adrienne asked.
I sighed, unenthused, "Yeah."
"Don't you get lonely?"
"Oh, yeah. Definitely."
"Sorry, that was a dumb question," she said.
"No, don't worry. At least I won't be lonely again 'til Monday," I said, smiling at her.
She grinned, "No, I guess you won't."
I explained to Billie Joe prior to boarding the plane that I needed to work on my article during our flight. I was worried about shutting them out and missing some priceless moments with the band, but I was relieved to discover they all traveled with their iPods. Mike and Tre sat in the row behind Billie and I, and Bill sat a row in front of us. Each of them whipped out their gadgets and placed earbuds in their ears, tuning out their surroundings.
Billie Joe had his iPod on his lap, but he still had not turned it on yet. I think he was waiting until the plane took off to make sure I didn't get scared. He'd offered me the window seat, and I had nervously accepted it. He said the view would be beautiful, and something I should see at least once in my life. I looked out the window now, the plane hadn't even moved, yet I could feel my hands gripping tighter onto the armrests.
Suddenly, I felt Billie Joe's hand on mine, "It's going to be okay, you're going to love it," he told me.
I looked over at him and smiled, but all I could think about was the flight I would have to take back all by myself. I wouldn't have Billie next to me then, caressing my hand and telling me that everything would be fine. Oh well, I couldn't worry about that now, I guess. There was so much to look forward to and so little time; I couldn't wait to get my feet on the ground in California.
A half hour later, with a smooth take off, we were cruising the skies westward. Billie Joe had gotten me through the lift off and then, when he was sure I was okay, he turned on his iPod and put his headphones over his ears. I turned on my laptop, then I pulled my voice recorder out of my purse and plugged my headphones into it. I placed the headphones over my ears and hit play; the interview from yesterday morning began sounding in my ears.
I typed easily, and mostly undistracted. At times, I could feel Billie Joe's eyes watching every word that I typed, but fortunately he didn't say anything. Sometimes, when bands give interviews, they later try to change what they initially said, but Green Day seemed at peace with their responses to my questions. I glanced over at Billie Joe several times during our three and a half hour flight, nearly every time he caught my eye and gave me a sweet, sheepish smile.
*
Billie Joe's POV
The Oakland Airport was jam-packed with people; I took hold of Adrienne's hand to insure we didn't get separated. I kept my eyes on the back of Mike's head, he was the tallest and his bleached hair was the easiest to spot, as we filtered through the crowd, following Bill to our awaiting ride. Because our trip had been so short we didn't need to even stop at the baggage claim, our backpacks had stayed with us the entire flight.
"It's amazing," Adrienne said, awed by the mass of people coming and going to and from Oakland. I looked over at her and grinned; I had reacted quite similarly the first time I had flown too.
"This is nothing, you should see this place the day before Thanksgiving," I told her. She gave me a look that seemed to say she'd rather not.
Once we had gotten outside of the airport we were met by a line of cabs, limos, and SUVs. Bill seemed to know which one was for us and he directed us right to it, a black SUV, similar to the one that had chauffeured us in Minnesota. We all climbed in, our bags on our laps, as our driver cursed at the loitering cab drivers who were blocking his way. We all seemed to find this exceptional hilarious, but we kept our amusement to ourselves; our shoulders shook with bottled up laughter.
The driver had the addresses to our houses. Mike was dropped off first, then Bill, then Tre. Finally, the driver pulled up to the curb below my house. Adrienne opened the car door and hopped out, I handed our driver a twenty-dollar tip then stepped out of the car after her.
"Thank-you, my friend," he called out through the partially open passenger's window, then sped off.
Adrienne looked up at the mansion, she maybe thought it looked grandeur, but I just thought it looked like a big, cold house. I had never put much effort into the place to make it feel homey. I didn't paint the walls, hang many pictures, or even spend too much time here. To me this house was nothing more than an address, a place to get bills and crash every once in a while. I felt more at home in my tour bus.
"It's so...You really live here alone?" Adrienne asked.
I sighed, unenthused, "Yeah."
"Don't you get lonely?"
"Oh, yeah. Definitely."
"Sorry, that was a dumb question," she said.
"No, don't worry. At least I won't be lonely again 'til Monday," I said, smiling at her.
She grinned, "No, I guess you won't."