She gives me a once over. “Nobaggage?”
“Spontaneous decision,” I tell her. “My girlfriend is on that flight, and I’ve decided I want to go withher.”
Mygirlfriend?
The phrase slipped out without me even thinking about it, but I guess it does make me seem like less of a threat to airport security. The check-in lady probably has backup on the way already, given how suspicious my lack of bags and sudden burning need for a last minute ticketare.
“That’s sweet,” she says, to my relief, “but you better get a move on. I’ll need your passport to start with. I hope you spontaneously decided to bring that aswell.”
I swear under my breath. Despite how many people have told me it’s unsafe and stupid, I keep my passport in the glove compartment of my car, the car that is currently sitting at the opposite end of the Parking Lot that Stretches Off IntoEternity.
“I’ll be right back!” I call over my shoulder, already booking it out of the airport after glancing at theclock.
I make the sprint of my life across the asphalt and barely even slow down as I yank the passenger side door open and pull my passport out. I’m panting and red-faced by the time I make it back into the lobby, and so out of breath all I can do is slam the passport down on the counter and lean forward to brace my hands on my thighs as the check-in lady gets towork.
“Don’t worry,” she tells me. “I held your seat. There were several other desperate boyfriends chasing after their Portuguese girlfriends that came in while you were gone, but I turned them allaway.”
I force out a laugh between my heavingbreaths.
“Okay, I’ll just need your method of payment now, Mr.Penn.”
She tells me what the price is and I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of me all over again. I’m going to be paying this off for months. I almost consider giving up and walking away, but then I shake my head. Whatever pushed me to get this far isn’t going to just stop and let me gonow.
“Well,” I wheeze, as I hand over my credit card, “I sure hope she’s happy to seeme.”
A few minutes later I’m careening down to the security check, boarding pass in hand. The corral of barricades is as swamped as ever and I stand at the very back, tapping my foot and trying to keep from staring at the giant clock on the wall. I’ve made about two inches of progress in line when a voice crackles onto the airportloudspeaker.
“All passengers heading to Lisbon on flight AC17, please make your way to gate six. We’ll be preparing to boardsoon.”
I crane my neck to try to catch a glimpse of the metal detectors and bag check, but the line seems to go on forever. I won’t make it intime.
“Excuse me!” I shout, to the room at large. A few heads turn towards me and then look away. I clear my throat and try again. “EXCUSEME!”
I get a bit more attention withthat.
“The, um, the woman I probably love a lot is getting on that flight,” I continue, my voice raised enough to echo, “and right now she hates me and I don’t know when I’ll see her again. I know this is a weird and selfish thing to ask, but I’m not going to make it to her in time. I need to get to the front of thisline.”
I stare into a crowd of blank faces. Everyone seems either too stunned or too uncomfortable to do anything. Then someone I can’t see shouts “OI!” and people start shuffling around as a person farther up in the line makes their way back towardsme.
“Part like the red sea, you wankers! This man needs to speak with the love of hislife!”
The voice is husky like a smoker’s, with a thick cockney accent. Whoever it is keeps shouting and bulldozing their way through the line until I’m face to face with a tiny punk rock chick who’s barely tall enough to stand level with my chest. She’s wearing plaid pants under a ripped Misfits t-shirt, and I don’t know what’s more noteworthy about her head: how many piercings she has in it, or the spiked green Mohawk that stands up straight from her skull like some kind offin.
“Come on, mate!” she shouts, and I’m shocked that someone so small can make that much noise. “We’re getting you to the front of thisline.”
Before I have time to react, she takes hold of my arm in a vice-like grip and starts dragging me through thecrowd.
“Step aside, plebs. This man’s on a right divine mission for the gods ofamore. You heard me, chaps. DIVINE MISSION! Now move yourarse.”
She ploughs through a group of businessmen who looked like they were about to offer some kind of resistance before she charged right through them without a second glance. I’m pulled along behind her, stumbling a bit as I try to keepup.
This is officially the weirdest thing that’s ever happened tome.
“Make way! Make way! Make way if you believe inlove!”
Somehow she manages to get us all the way up to the security check point before we’re stopped by a very large guy in a very official looking vest. He steps in front of us, holding up bothhands.
“Excuse me miss, but you can’t cut through the line likethis.”
