I smiled at the airline employee waiting to help me with my bags. “Yes, thank you.”
He rolled my suitcases toward the terminal to check them in. With the tags printed, he looped them over the handles and presented two more for the cat carrier and travel litter box.
With everything secured, I looked down at Allister, who was not very happy.
“I know, buddy. But it’s going to be great. We’re going to America, and there’s something good waiting for us there. I just know it.”
When we arrived at our gate, I set everything on the floor and checked us in. As we waited to board, I pulled out my copy ofAmerican Football for Dummiesand picked up where I’d left off.
Thanks to the generosity of my new employer, we were flying first class as we crossed the Pacific. The spacious private suite had plenty of room for both of us and featured an automatic reclining seat that converted into a bed. The personal amenities kit and noise-canceling headphones were top-tier. Toss in unlimited dining and snacks, and I was living in the lap of luxury. If this was how all footballers traveled, then I was sure I’d made the right decision.
I’d never been to the States and could admit I was stoked for the experience. San Diego, California, was reportedly one of the most beautiful places in America, and I was ready for a new beginning.
Thirty minutes before the first flight landed in Los Angeles, I took advantage of the business-class amenities and changed into the designer suit I’d purchased. I wanted to look good just in case I would be meeting the coach and Mr. Carlisle today.
After landing at LAX, I had an hour between flights to clear customs and get us to the new terminal. As luck would have it, being seated in first class meant a shorter line. With only Allister and his litter box to declare, I made it through quickly.
Unfortunately, my international gate was located as far as humanly possible from the regional terminal for my connecting flight. Boarding would begin in thirty minutes, and it was on time. If the shuttle was on schedule, we should make it.
After locating the correct bus, Allister and I piled on and luckily found a seat. He’d had enough of all this commotion and began meowing at the top of his lungs.
“It’s okay, baby boy. We’ll be there soon enough, and I’ll get you out.”
He didn’t care what I had to say and kept up the caterwauling. I was ready to crawl under the seat, but as soon as the shuttle began to move, he settled down.
Ten minutes before boarding, I scanned the area, hoping to find a bathroom. As I headed there for a quick piss, some wanker running to catch his flight barreled into me, dousing me with his giant iced coffee, ruining my fucking suit.
His eyes went wide as my six-foot-four menacing stare glared down at him.
“Oh god. Sorry dude,” he’d said as he scrambled to his feet. He wasn’t a day over twenty and appeared perplexed about what to do. Frantically, he eyed the terminal where he was going, then back at me.
“I’m gonna…” he stammered. “I’m so sorry.”
I took a deep breath and tried to calm the rage burning in me. “Go on, mate. You’re obviously in a hurry.”
The kid nodded and took off down the terminal. I was covered in cold, dark coffee and what smelled like chocolate. Sticky white clumps of whipped cream and chocolate shavings clung to my shirt.
“Fucking hell.”
“Are you alright, sir?”
I looked at the airport employee; her expression told me it was worse than I thought.
I plucked at my shirt as the cold beverage chilled my skin.
“Yes, physically I’m fine,” I grunted. “But I can’t fly like this.”
I needed out of the wet garbs, but had nothing to change into.
Running a hand through my hair, I forgot it too, was covered in sticky goo. Now I had it everywhere. The viscous mess had also crept its way south and coated my bits. I’d have to peel my undies off at some point.
“There’s a gift shop over there if you’d like to get something else to wear. I bet you could find something that would work.” She pointed to the duty-free store that sold everything from pain relievers to potato crisps.
“Yeah,” I sighed, giving up. “I’ll give it a go.”
“You, uh,” she said warily, “need to hurry, sir. We’ll be boarding soon.”
I grunted and walked quickly to the little store, ending up with a Rams T-shirt and god-awful athletic shorts. Not the good kind.
