by C. B. Martin
I threw some things into my case and cursed myself for not taking Travis’ number so I could give him a piece of my mind. Who did he think he was? The gobshite!
I decided to try and get some sleep. I lay on the couch and drifted, keeping my phone under the cushion, just in case.
It felt like I’d only been asleep for a minute when it was time to get up. Of course, the first thing I did was to check my phone. Nothing. I felt like such a fool. Thank God I hadn’t slept with him!
I felt exhausted and was dreading my miserable journey home. As I threw on some creased, mismatched clothes, I kept having flashbacks from the night before. Retrieving my scattered outfit after last night’s episode, I couldn’t stop myself thinking these clothes were up against that gorgeous hunk last night. What a wanker!
As I finished throwing the rest of my belongings into the case, I started to feel pretty foolish and embarrassed for getting so carried away.
‘Ah sure, are you really going to leave looking like that?’ mum asked, as she fussed about, tucking extra stuff into my bag (including what looked like a full packed lunch). She never did trust airlines to feed me properly. She spun around to face me, ‘you look like you've been dragged through a hedge arse-ways. Will you not even run a comb ‘trew your hair, child? And you’ve still got your disco makeup on… let me get that for you, pet.’
With that, mum advanced towards me with her thumb, dripping with saliva.
‘Oh god… mum… no, don’t!’ I squealed, backing up in horror. ‘I couldn’t give two shites how I look right now!’
Mum looked offended, but luckily, before she could reproach me, Laura interrupted:
‘Tara, you’re going to have to shift that arse of yours if I’m dropping you at the airport,’ she shouted over her shoulder as she made determinedly to her car. ‘I’ll be late for work otherwise.’
I could barely conceal my growing temper as I yelled back. ‘Look - I can’t find my Jimmy Choo pumps… Mum, have you seen them? … KATIE! Have you had them?!’
I wouldn’t have put it past that little sister of mine to have them on eBay as quick as a flash to raise cash to feed her nasal hobby.
‘Now don’t you be blaming the child, Lord knows you’d blame her if it were raining!’ interrupted mum whilst wagging her finger at me. Katie, who was leaning on the doorframe looking smug, seemed to be enjoying my discomfort. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of saying anything, so I became determined to leave immediately, missing Jimmys or no missing Jimmys.
‘Right - I have to go!’ I bellowed in annoyance, grabbing stuff right and left and shoving it into my case.
‘Go on with yourself and hurry over to the car,’ said mum, trying to stuff one last Satsuma into my handbag. ‘God only knows what the neighbours will think - with you leaving the house looking like that.’
I gave mum a big hug and Katie a halfhearted one, grabbed the first pair of shoes I could find and hobbled to the car with my case in tow. I threw my luggage into the boot and slumped into the passenger seat.
‘Are you really going to the airport looking like that, Tara?’ enquired Laura, with her well-practiced ‘have-you-lost-the-plot?’ look. I decided that any answer I gave would be way too foul mouthed, so I didn’t answer her at all.
I pulled down the sun-visor to look in the mirror. They were right. I looked rough as a badger’s arse. Maybe I should have brushed my hair; or at least wiped away the makeup from underneath my eyes.
I flipped the sun-visor back up and looked down at myself. I really was a mess. My open toed, diamante-encrusted, silver, four-inch heels really didn’t look good with socks on underneath. To make matters worse, the socks didn’t even match. One was a rainbow inspired stripy sock, the other a novelty Christmas sock with a reindeer’s face on it. Adding to my ‘bag lady’ look was a mismatched, creased, velour tracksuit, which had something sticky on it, more than likely a dribble of rum from those god-awful liqueur chocolates. Finally, completing the tramp-like ensemble was my knee length cream faux fur coat. If James could see me now, he’d have a touch of the vapours and resign on the spot.
No – actually - for the first time in my life, I really didn’t care. My thoughts had already crept away from my outfit and back to last night. Travis seemed so sincere and above all, so honest. How could I have got it so wrong?
Before I knew it, we were at the airport. Barely a word had been exchanged between Laura and I. I think we were both too hung-over to speak. She did mention her pounding head and not wanting to go to work, but that was about the extent of our conversation.
As I was readying myself to say my goodbyes to Laura, she saw the sadness in my face.
‘Tara, today’s a new day,’ she said gently. ‘Embrace it. Now, go and sort yourself out in the toilets. Your hair looks like something that’s just been emptied out of a vacuum cleaner.’
‘I don’t care,’ I replied with a half smile before half-throwing my arm around her in a belated attempt to be sisterly.
‘Sorry, Tara, I have to run. I have to return a book that I borrowed from my boss before I start work. I’ll call you later.’
Oh… FUCK. The book! I had flashbacks of a drunk, immature me doodling random penises all over it the night before. Shite. Right then, right there I didn't have the courage to own up to what I had done to her boss’s book. I decided I would text her instead after I had put my case through, that way I’d be out of punching distance (plus there would be lots of security around).
I limped over to the departure lounge with my flapping, short ankle-bashers revealing my interesting choice of socks and four-inch stripper stilettos.
Checking-in at the airport was the last thing I wanted to do. I kept fantasising that Travis would make it to the airport in time to stop me from leaving, but I hadn’t even told him what time my flight was. I dragged my weary, hung-over head (closely followed by my body) across the packed Departures hall to the check-in point.
‘Good morning, Madame,’ said the check-in assistant with a forced smile.
I didn’t give her any sort of acknowledgement; I just threw my passport on the counter with a big sigh.
‘Thank you,’ she said with just a hint of sarcasm in her crisp, perfect little voice that matched her crispy large bun. ‘Could anyone have tampered with your belongings, Madame?’
I really wasn’t in the least bit interested in this boring procedure. My thoughts had once again returned to Travis. That devious, silver-tongued bastard!
‘Yes yes, everybody tampers with my things,’ I mumbled irritably while wondering where the hell my expensive Jimmy Choo pumps had gone.
‘Madame, are you saying that someone has tampered with your luggage?’ questioned the check-in girl, her eyes widening.
‘Err, no… sorry,’ I stammered, snapping back to the here-and-now, becoming aware I’d said something stupid. ‘I wish Travis had tampered with my things though…’
The snotty check-in girl gave me an alarming look.
‘Oh God, did I… did I just say that out loud?’
‘Yes, Madame, you did,’ she announced in a matter-of-fact tone. She seemed to take delight at my expense. ‘Madame, are you saying someone has tampered with your bags?’
My stupid loose tongue seemed to be taking over before my foggy, hungover brain could filter its content.
‘No - no, not at all,’ I said nervously, in response to her ridiculous reaction. What is her problem? Seriously? I could tell she was on the verge of summoning some sort of assistance. I attempt once more to calm the situation.
‘I mean,’ (drawing myself up straight) ‘I have nothing to clare… err no - I mean deeeeclare.’
I saw her eyes narrow as she leaned in closer to look get a good look at me, sniffing me as though I was some kind of animal.
‘That’s not what I asked you, Madame,’ she yapped, articulating every syllable with cut-glass clarity as though she was speaking to an imbecile. ‘I believe you could be highly intoxicated and therefor
e unfit to fly. I’m going to have to call security.’
‘Sweet mother of God,’ I said, as the enormity of the situation began to hit home. Was this idiot really going to kick me off the flight? ‘What have I ever done to you?!’
‘There’s no need to be abusive, Madame,’ she returned, primly. ‘We have strict guidelines that we must follow. Passenger safety is paramount.’
Alarmed, I watched her perfectly manicured hand pick up the phone.
‘Can you get security over to check-in four?’ she rapidly ranted into the receiver, while never taking her eyes off me. ‘We have a code yellow situation. I can smell alcohol and the passenger is being particularly abusive... Yes... Yes, I also think she might be on drugs.’
‘Wait… what? Me?’ I exclaimed, looking around in disbelief. The woman behind me was avoiding all eye contact with me, and the teenagers behind her were snorting with laughter.
‘What the actual fuck is wrong with you!? I’m just trying to catch a flight… I want to be left alone!’ I snarled over the desk.
‘Make that a code orange – please hurry.’
IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING TO ME?
My heart was pounding; I could see the situation was now beyond saving. To top it all off, my hangover from the night before was now in full swing, as I broke out into a cold sweat and started shaking.
By now, a large and very unhappy queue started to form behind me. I could feel the stares burning into my back and could hear the huffs, puffs and loud clicking of tongues. I tried to make light of the situation.
‘Not to worry,’ I announced, bravely turning to address the people behind me. ‘There’s a slight problem with my booking, they’re just phoning to get confirmation.’ But, if anything, this only made the situation worse.
‘Jaysus, she’s not to be messed with - she’ll be from the travelling community,’ whispered one elderly lady to her companion in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘Thank the Lord for airport security.’
By now, I didn’t know what to do. I just pulled on my oversized Bvlgari sunglasses in an effort to hide my identity as best as possible. I figured it didn’t help much. And I certainly felt no better. All I wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I could see heads poking out from the back of the queue, like a Mexican wave trying to nosey what was going on up ahead.
‘It’s simply a misunderstanding,’ I added, addressing the crowd again; this time raising my arm in a theatrical gesture designed to show my innocence. Looking at the stony-faced reception I was getting from my audience, I decided my salvation laid in one more last-ditch attempt to appease Ms. Polyfiller-face, the check-in assistant.
‘Do I look like I attend AA meetings?’ I asked, trying to sound reasonable. Okay, I knew I hadn’t exactly covered myself in glory this morning and I did look pretty rough, but this lot were really taking this to the extreme.
Clearly trying to reason with this size 12 woman (who was obviously in denial and had convinced herself she could squeeze in to a size 8) was a mistake.
‘Look… Miss,’ I implored, trying to be even more respectful this time. ‘I just want to get home. I went out last night and it was a complete disaster. I met a well-known man and, yes, I did perhaps have one too many, but… ’
‘Madame,’ she sharply interrupted, ‘are you trying to bribe me? With celebrity name dropping?’
‘No, I am not!’ I retorted in disgust, genuinely shocked and now even more pissed off. How dare she? I was wasting my breath. Everything I said fell on deaf ears. She quite obviously had it in for me from the beginning.
‘Please move over to one side Madame - there are sober passengers waiting for their flight,’ she said pointedly, pouting her lips with a dismissive hand gesture.
Cheeky bitch, I thought, as I scrambled in my handbag for chewing gum to disguise the smell of alcohol.
Today is really not the right day to pick on me… the obstinate twat. Despite my feigned defiance, my face was still smarting with embarrassment. I quickly pulled out my phone to call Laura to come and vouch for me and help me get out of this dreadful mess. But, before I could, security had arrived. Two guards linked both of my arms and hustled me into a room, while a third walked behind, dragging my case. I tried to distract myself from the embarrassing walk of shame by imagining how I’d tell this story to my friends. It would have to be something like; ‘who would have thought it, three burley men ushering little old me’. But I wasn’t ready to laugh. Not by a long shot. It was so mind-feckingly awful. The floodgates opened and I began to cry like a baby.
In the end, they questioned me for over an hour while I polished off ten cups of coffee on the trot. I was more than relieved that they didn’t decide to body search me, my arse was sore enough thank you very much. In fact, they decided not to take the matter any further after all. Maybe they subconsciously realised there was no further indignity that could be heaped upon me. I was now a broken woman.
Even so, while all of this was going on, there was still a part of me listening out for my so-called ‘delayed texts’ from Travis. I really, really had it bad.
Despite feeling completely demoralised, after they released me, I still managed to catch the original flight after rushing through security. I was still in complete shock when I boarded the plane and while trying to find a seat, the whispers began again. It was all those feckers from the queue.
‘Seeeee,’ I announced in a booming, devil-may-care tone, gesturing at my own presence. ‘Innocent… till proven guilty.’
To complete my act of nonchalance I kissed my teeth and shook my head in pure defiance. ‘That will shut them up!’ But, for once, I did as I was told and switched my phone off during the flight and just sat in tearful, mopey silence.
As soon as we touched down, I switched my phone back on. I had a new message – please let it be Travis…
[Text from Laura]
Omg are you ok? Mrs. Flanagan saw you getting arrested at the airport. Tried to call you but can’t get through, phone me ASAP x
[Text to Laura]
Tell Mrs. Flannel face I WAS NOT ARRESTED!! There was merely a misunderstanding. Will call you when I’m home. Still haven’t heard from Travis by the way :-( x
Shite. Now the whole of Dublin will know what’s happened at the airport, great. My life is on the floor, I despaired.
I sat pondering on the parked plane, still bewildered and shaking my head in disbelief at the last 12 hours of events. Unbelievable. So, here I am, back in England, exhausted, confused, un-refreshed, it’s pouring with rain and now I’m meant to put on a brave face? I just couldn't.
I text Jackie turning down her kind offer of picking me up from the airport, pulled on my coat, collected my luggage and grabbed a taxi home. I felt exhausted and frankly, quite depressed. I returned to London with a hangover from hell, a case full of dirty washing and a thong-induced, red-raw arse (that wasn't even the result of having amazing sexy-times). I was already sick of the festive season.
I just wanted to sleep the whole sorry nightmare away. I switched my phone to silent, dumped my case in the hallway and got into bed fully- clothed, pulling the comfort of the duvet around me.
I woke up four hours later to find I had several missed calls and three text messages.
[Text from (Unrecognised)]
Hi Tara, hope you don’t mind, but when I didn’t hear from you, I wasn’t sure if I had the no. down correctly… So I tracked down your sis this morning and she gave it to me. I miss you already. How’re you feeling today? Travis xx
I screamed with excitement and jumped up and down on the bed. I was like a frantic child, I was so deliriously happy. I couldn’t help but read the text over-and-over again. Deep down I always knew he wasn’t a gobshite! I can’t believe I thought he was a wanker. Oh bless him!
I went back and read the first of other text messages from Laura saying Travis had tracked her down at her workplace, because she had told Dougie the hospital where she worked in the hope of a �
��visit’ one day. The missed calls were from Laura too, she’d been trying to get hold of me. All of a sudden my trip to Dublin was the best trip ever. A whoosh of love fell over my quickly recovering body. I returned a text immediately:
[Text to Travis]
Hi Travis, so good to hear from you! I’m glad you went out of your way to get my no., really enjoyed your company. I hope to see you again very soon xxx
Life was so worth living again.
I immediately dialled Laura and shrieked down the phone to her on a euphoric high while demanding every little detail of how Travis got my number.
‘So, what did he say?’ I asked, ecstatically.
‘The same as what I just told you five times,’ she said with a sigh.
‘Okay… sorry. So what did he wear?’ I begged.
‘The same outfit that I described just a minute ago.’
‘Was he still gorgeous?’ I wheedled. Stupid question really, of course he was still gorgeous. ‘D’you think he really likes me?’
‘I’m sure…’ began Laura.
‘Did I tell you what he has text me?’ I asked, interrupting her in my excitement.
‘Yes,’ said Laura evenly.
I somehow sensed she was bored with me, so ended our conversation and read my newly received text.
[Text from Siobhan]
Boo hoo… I have a sore tummy. I think me sim card is on its way :’( x
I woke early on the morning of New Year’s Eve with a smile. I checked my phone to find out if I had received a text from Travis. I had. It was a whole wonderful page full of kisses. Just as I was about to reply, I received another one…
[Text from Travis]
Hi babe, hope your well. Have decided 2 go 2 Manchester for new yr. Really want to see my parents x
My heart leapt with excitement. I rang Laura immediately.