Status: active
The Wolves
jetlag
I felt sorry for the bloke at the customer service desk, really. It wasn't his fault my bag ended up in France, over 5000 miles away. It probably wasn't his fault that I was stood in soggy jeans from where the toddler I'd been sat next to on the flight decided to bring up his carrot and peas all over me. It was most definitely not his fault that I'd left my passport on the plane. And it wasn't his fault that he just so happened to be working when my plane touched down.
But my god, did he get the blame for it.
I stood in front of the desk, hands spread out wide over the cool metal table as the dark-haired 20-something year old stared at me in disbelief, already having given up trying to get all of my complaints down onto his computer. My thoughts were running at a hundred miles an hour as I profusely spat out profanities and negativity, cursing out the airline and promising to never travel with them again.
"Miss," he started, licking his lips before looking at me as if he'd just been shot in the arm, "please lower your voice."
"I will not lower my fucking voice!" I practically yelled, "What the fuck am I gonna do? My only clothes are covered in baby food and my passport is already a thousand miles up in the air right now, probably with some fat guy sat on top of it, completely oblivious that my poor passport is slowly being absorbed in between his ass cheeks!"
The boy, who I'd just noticed wore a name tag saying "Ricky" sighed with a sympathetic smile, "We will get your passport and your luggage back to you in a few days."
"A few days?!" I repeated incredulously, "So what do I do in the meantime?"
"Um... be patient? Stay calm?"
I wanted to reach across the desk and slap good ol' Ricky across the face, but instead I took a deep breath and took one step back, "Have it at my hotel pronto, Ricardo."
"It's just Ricky,"
"I don't care. Just get it done."
Before he could reply, I was spinning on my heel and stomping back towards where my best friend was sitting, rifling through her handbag repeatedly saying, "oh god... oh no... where is it... fuck!"
"What've you lost? Your passport? Your luggage? Your dignity? Oh wait..." I paused, "that's just me!"
Kayleigh glanced up at me for a split second before turning back to her bag, "My phone!" she practically squeaked,"it's gone."
I rolled my eyes at her, picking up the apparently lost device from the bench right next to her, "Found it."
She looked at the phone in my hand as if it were a newborn child before smiling the widest grin I'd ever seen, "Thank God."
"Well, I'm glad you're happy at least." I mumbled, "I don't think my day could get much worse."
There was suddenly the sound of shouting and clicks, flashes lighting up the whole airport terminal as fully grown men rushed down the hallway with their cameras all pointing in one direction in particular.
"Reckon it's a celebrity?" Kayleigh asked, getting to her feet and crossing her arms as she casually tried to see which famous people had happened to be in the airport at the same time as we were.
I shrugged looking down at my phone in my hand and scrolling through Twitter.
"Oh god." Kayleigh breathed.
"What?"
"Nothing." Kayleigh quickly took a seat beside me, acting as if nothing had happened.
"What? Who is it Kay?"
"No one."
"Why are you being so-" my mouth fell shut as I caught a pair of green eyes. He looked older, which wasn't surprising - he was 16 when I last saw him. We were both 21 now. His lips parted for a second, as if he intended to say something to me, but he was pushed on by a blonde-haired boy and he seemed to forget where he was, tripping over his own feet and nearly sending his duffle bag flying to the ground. The crowd bustled past us, and I watched as he tugged the beanie off his head and ruffled his hair up, looking over his shoulder one more time before continuing through the terminal.
"Well, at least now it definitely can't get any worse." Kayleigh smiled with a small shrug, offering help and support, but failing miserably.
"Sometimes, I wonder why we're friends."
But my god, did he get the blame for it.
I stood in front of the desk, hands spread out wide over the cool metal table as the dark-haired 20-something year old stared at me in disbelief, already having given up trying to get all of my complaints down onto his computer. My thoughts were running at a hundred miles an hour as I profusely spat out profanities and negativity, cursing out the airline and promising to never travel with them again.
"Miss," he started, licking his lips before looking at me as if he'd just been shot in the arm, "please lower your voice."
"I will not lower my fucking voice!" I practically yelled, "What the fuck am I gonna do? My only clothes are covered in baby food and my passport is already a thousand miles up in the air right now, probably with some fat guy sat on top of it, completely oblivious that my poor passport is slowly being absorbed in between his ass cheeks!"
The boy, who I'd just noticed wore a name tag saying "Ricky" sighed with a sympathetic smile, "We will get your passport and your luggage back to you in a few days."
"A few days?!" I repeated incredulously, "So what do I do in the meantime?"
"Um... be patient? Stay calm?"
I wanted to reach across the desk and slap good ol' Ricky across the face, but instead I took a deep breath and took one step back, "Have it at my hotel pronto, Ricardo."
"It's just Ricky,"
"I don't care. Just get it done."
Before he could reply, I was spinning on my heel and stomping back towards where my best friend was sitting, rifling through her handbag repeatedly saying, "oh god... oh no... where is it... fuck!"
"What've you lost? Your passport? Your luggage? Your dignity? Oh wait..." I paused, "that's just me!"
Kayleigh glanced up at me for a split second before turning back to her bag, "My phone!" she practically squeaked,"it's gone."
I rolled my eyes at her, picking up the apparently lost device from the bench right next to her, "Found it."
She looked at the phone in my hand as if it were a newborn child before smiling the widest grin I'd ever seen, "Thank God."
"Well, I'm glad you're happy at least." I mumbled, "I don't think my day could get much worse."
There was suddenly the sound of shouting and clicks, flashes lighting up the whole airport terminal as fully grown men rushed down the hallway with their cameras all pointing in one direction in particular.
"Reckon it's a celebrity?" Kayleigh asked, getting to her feet and crossing her arms as she casually tried to see which famous people had happened to be in the airport at the same time as we were.
I shrugged looking down at my phone in my hand and scrolling through Twitter.
"Oh god." Kayleigh breathed.
"What?"
"Nothing." Kayleigh quickly took a seat beside me, acting as if nothing had happened.
"What? Who is it Kay?"
"No one."
"Why are you being so-" my mouth fell shut as I caught a pair of green eyes. He looked older, which wasn't surprising - he was 16 when I last saw him. We were both 21 now. His lips parted for a second, as if he intended to say something to me, but he was pushed on by a blonde-haired boy and he seemed to forget where he was, tripping over his own feet and nearly sending his duffle bag flying to the ground. The crowd bustled past us, and I watched as he tugged the beanie off his head and ruffled his hair up, looking over his shoulder one more time before continuing through the terminal.
"Well, at least now it definitely can't get any worse." Kayleigh smiled with a small shrug, offering help and support, but failing miserably.
"Sometimes, I wonder why we're friends."