Two Truths and a Lie

If kissing the ground wasn’t so dirty and gross, my lips would be pressed on the floor of the Manchester airport terminal in a heartbeat. Although, I didn’t need another reason for people to sneak second glances at me as my fellow passengers and I zombie-walked towards customs. My leg was asleep because I was dumb enough not to get up once during the 7 hour flight to England and my limp rivaled one of a pirate with a peg leg. The huge coffee stain that had manifested itself on my pale pink hoodie when my cup spilled all over me while I was trying to reposition myself during my 3rd inflight movie wasn’t doing me any favors either. Not to mention, I was pretty sure the guy who sat next to me had the flu, and the strong cough I accumulated from him landed me in a daze. I couldn’t even appreciate the thick British accent of the customs officer as he waved a hand in front of my face and said

“M’am?”

I took in the grey haired, mustached man in front of me.

“Yes, sorry.” I reached into my carry on and handed him my passport.

“What are you here for and for how long?” ‘Greg’, as the man’s name tag displayed, asked.

“Work. Two weeks.” I worried I was being too vague, and prepared myself to say more, but Greg then stamped my passport and ushered me to the side, pointing to the luggage claim.

Luggage claim was a zoo. Families were bickering, babies were crying, and suitcases whirled faster and faster around the belt. I decided to step back and wait a few minutes for it to die down, and whipped out my phone. I had shut it off during the flight, I mean, I wasn’t about to pay for wifi, and there were enough Jennifer Aniston movies on the airplane TV for me to be entertained. No notifications besides a voicemail from Nina, my boss. I wasn’t surprised.

“Lydia, thank you sooo much,” her voice slurred. When was this sent? I checked the time stamp. Thanksgiving night. I could just picture her hiding in her aunt’s bathroom while her family slathered mashed potatoes with gravy in the dining room. Nina had a tendency to overdrink at family functions, and she usually didn’t regret it. “When I proposed this assignment, I was soo ready for people to say no. I mean,” she hiccuped,” who wants to work on a holiday?”

I laughed to myself. I remember the groans around the office, people offering excuses left and right why they couldn’t take on the task. Everyone had families, or a significant other’s family, or, in the intern’s case, plans to go on a tinder date.

“You remember what it is, right? Capture the culture, the youth….the culture,” Nina repeated. I knew the assignment, and she knew I knew, but she liked having confirmation. All the time. My mission was to travel to different cities and towns in England, go to museums, gigs, shops, and mingle with the locals. It was going to be a piece for The Now, but it seemed a little misdirected and vague. I would figure it out, though. I always did.
“Anyway, call me when you get this. Or later. Oops, There’s a knock,” Nina mumbled. I heard her brother desperately yell out that he needed to pee, and the call ended with a click.

I then decided to check my social media. Nothing new from the last time. Why would there be? I decided it would make the most professional sense to tweet from The Now’s Twitter and typed Landed in England! Stay tuned to see what we get up to! And with 100,000 followers, The Now usually got a decent amount of retweets. I noticed that the luggage area was quieter than before, and slid my phone into my pocket.

My red suitcase wasn’t hard to find because 1. It’s color 2. It was one of the only suitcases left, lamely rotating around as it waited for its owner. I picked it up and rolled it to the exit. Nina had told me that there would be a car picking me up at the airport, but I didn’t believe her. However, when I stumbled outside, I saw a tiny black car with a driver standing outside it, holding a sign that said “Lydia Matson.” Me.