Ski Lodge

4// Check-in

Sunday

The airplane touches down, and the parents all file out in front of us. We are stuck behind a group of elderly couples who are moving like molasses.

Finally, a small opening appears in the aisle, and Becker jumps into the spot.

He opens the overhead and grabs my purple backpack first. He hands me my bag from the overhead compartment as I crouch in front of my seat, stooping my head so it won't hit the ceiling. I put my bag on my front so as not to smack an already sulking Laura with it. Becker waits for the aisle to clear in front of him before moving forward, pulling me and then Laura into the space he makes behind him.

We are standing very close.

"Wait, I didn't get to see the real ocean!" Laura exclaims, "there was just white snow everywhere. I wanted the ocean!"

"I think snow is much cooler than the ocean," I try to soothe her.

"Good one," Becker makes the drum symbol noise on his lap, his movement bumping his elbow into my arm.

"That wasn't meant to be a joke."

"Oh I get it! Because snow is cold!" Laura smiles.

"Exactly," Becker gives Laura a high five. She has to jump to reach him. They both bump into me while they high-five.

I laugh, and Becker turns to me.

"I guess your bad mood is gone," he nudges me in the arm.

"I wasn't in a bad mood," I say defensively. Becker shrugs which causes some static to spark on my sleeve. I yelp and Becker laughs.

The line starts moving and Becker waddles forward then I shift behind him. Laura is turned around talking to the elderly woman behind us.

"Laura," I calmly call out.

The elderly woman glances up at me and then back at Laura, "you'd better go follow your mama, sweet thing."

Laura laughs and turns, bouncing towards me. "Did you hear that?" she whispers to me, "she thinks you're my mom," she giggles.

We make our way down the aisle, Laura first, then me, then Becker. We are so close to each other that Laura keeps stepping on my shoes. I have to brace my arms against the seats next to me to not barrel into Becker.

Our parents are waiting for us in the runway leading to the airport. There, Laura runs to Weston, where they start talking about their trip, and I fall into line behind my mother. Becker stands behind me.

"You're going to regret your warm weather clothes once we walk outside," he suddenly says, shifting next to me.

"There's a pair of pants in my bag. I'll change once we get to a bathroom."

"We won't have time, we have to get our luggage."

"Which will probably take awhile, therefore, I'll be able to change into my pants."

"Perhaps. Or maybe there won't be a bathroom, and then you'll just have to freeze."

"There is bound to be a bathroom. This is an airport." My teeth are clenched in aggravation.

"If you say so," he shrugs.

There are half a dozen bathrooms around the luggage claim area, and I am able to quickly change into my pants, freshen up, and wait for Laura to use the bathroom again all before our luggage even starts to flow out of our claim lane.

I give Becker an 'I told you so' smirk when Laura and I rejoin the group. He rolls his eyes and starts standing with his hands on his hips to look for our luggage. He looks like a dad, and I have to chuckle in spite of myself.