An Hour Ahead

Chapter 12: 'Hey Stephen' (Toronto - Day 1)

I just traveled 435 miles by plane. 1 hour and 18 minutes. Thank heavens for no turbulence or delays. I stayed awake the entire flight surprisingly, staring out the window for brief periods, chatting with the friendly middle-aged man who sat beside me, and reading Nicholas Sparks’s The Wedding on my Kindle Fire. I thanked the pilot and flight attendants as I walked down the aisle to the jet bridge. They smiled in return and waved. I turned on my phone and called mom.

“Hey mama, I just landed. I’m about to go to the baggage claim. Then I’m gonna go to the Toronto Auto Rentals, wherever that is in the airport.” I said, walking through the sea of people who were rushing to catch their flights.

“Okay, hon. I’m glad you got there safely. Let me know when you get to Leigh-Ann’s. If there are any problems with the rental car transactions, call me then too and ---“ she paused.

“Yes! She just landed!” mom yelled to someone, covering the voice receiver on the phone.

“Sorry, Case. Dad was asking if you arrived. But, anyway, call me whenever. I love you, sweetheart,” said mom calmly.

“Love you too, mom. Talk to you soon.” I tapped the red “End Call” button on my phone screen and proceeded to the moving walkway that would lead to an escalator going down to the ground level of Toronto Pearson International Airport. 

I waited at baggage claim 5 until the conveyor belt decided to spit out the luggage. I saw my black Delsey bag come out seventh, preceding a plastic red luggage. I grabbed it with all my might and wheeled it with me to the Toronto Auto Rentals booth outside. Good Lord, was it cold out there. I thought Chicago weather was bipolar. Toronto was a whole new level of PMS that even doctors didn’t discover yet. The wind bit my skin, so I wrapped myself in my army green parka real good, pulling the fur-lined hood up to my head, making me look like an “out-of-place” Eskimo.

I stepped forward to the counter and spoke with a woman, young and bubbly. She had her dirty blond hair plopped on her head in a bun, with natural makeup that accentuated her defined bone structure.

“Hi, welcome to Toronto!” She smiled big and wide. I love that in workers. Like what’s the point of getting a job if you’re going to be there to ruin peoples’ days with a crappy attitude? Might as well make yourself worthy of being an employee and get the job done right with as much enthusiasm as a 5 year-old kid on Halloween. “Are you picking up a rental?”

It’s as if she read my mind. “Yes, I am, actually. Here’s the bill.” I replied, sliding a sheet of paper dictating my information and order number, on the counter top.

“Great. Ms. Casey Hemmings,” she read off the sheet. “I see you’re from Chicago, is that right?”

“That’s right,” I grinned.

“Is it your first time here in Canada?” she asked without taking her eyes off the computer screen, as she typed the order number into the system.

“No, actually. I’ve been here a couple times. Once in Quebec, and a couple other times here in Toronto.”

“That’s wonderful. Excuse me, one moment,” she said, making her way to another worker at the back of the booth. She gave him a chain of keys, and he proceeded out the back into the darkness of what seemed to be the garage. She trotted back to the counter. “Alright Ms. Hemmings, I have a white Toyota Corolla being pulled up for you right now. It’ll be on the curb for you all ready to go shortly. You can wait over there,” she instructed, pointing her pen to the yellow-painted roadside curb.

 I nodded, “Thank you very much. I really appreciate it. Have a good one!”

“You, too. Enjoy your stay here in Toronto! If you have any complications with the vehicle or any questions at all, please feel free to call us,” she said, handing over a Toronto Auto Rentals calling card. I reached out to grab it and went to wait by the curb for the car. A man in his mid-20s pulled up, wearing a Toronto Auto Rentals sweatshirt. He stepped out of the driver’s side and gave me a welcoming smile.