One For The Road ✔ | A short novella |

2. London - New York

Chapter Two

London - New York

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"The glamour of it all! New York! America!" Charlie Chaplin- Ellis

New York City. July 31st

Ellis

"We're going to get stopped and searched and taken off into separate, dark rooms, and then, the gloves will come out, because, well just look at the state of me!"

I try to calm Jessie down whilst we stand in a long passport control queue that feels like what forever might actually be like, but it's just not going to happen. She's all frazzled from a turbulent filled plane ride. Her very first.

The usually tough, take no prisoners Jessie is nowhere to be found. 

She keeps on about how pale she looks. Suspiciously so, like she might have a small countries worth of Colombian marching powder stuffed in her suitcase.

And I suppose she does look a bit paler than normal. And a tiny bit frazzled but it's been a long day and a bumpy journey so far but as usual, when I tell her that she looks great, because she does, all things considered, she brushes me off.

"Maybe we'll die here, in this never-ending queue," she says, gulping down water from a bottle she's been clutching ever since we stepped off the plane at JFK airport. "Maybe this is all a rouse and they're watching us, listening in to what we say as we wait."

I think the air pressure from the plane and no sleep has taken it's toll on her. That, or the much discussed jet-lag has begun to set in. Just like everyone warned us about.

Still, I try to remain upbeat. We're in New York! The Big Apple! The City that never sleeps, for Christ's sake!

We're finally here, after all these years of dreaming and wishing and planning, in the actual United States of America and if I'm honest, it feels damn good. Even if Jessie's acting all weird and a bit wobbly on her feet.

And even if she's freaking out about getting her fingerprints scanned. Her hands all clammy from what's to come before we can hop on the subway and head for our downtown New York hotel.

"That woman, the customs, security person," Jessie squeaks, under her breath. She side eyes a uniformed woman painfully oblivious to the both of us near passport control. "She keeps looking at me. I think she's trying to suss me out."

"Oh come on, stop being so silly," I laugh quietly, though she shoots me a look that means I shouldn't be. "Jessie, she's really not. I hate to break it to you but you're not any different from all these other schmucks in the line. Everyone's tired and looking like they'd rather be anywhere else than here too."

At least this makes her giggle a little, me putting on my best New York accent.

Ten minutes later and we're back to square one. Jessie's taken off her hoodie but she's still sweating. 

"I wish my mum was here, she'd know what to do. She's good in a crisis."

I shake my head, because Jessie's talking rubbish. Her mum is the complete opposite but I don't say that. Instead I half nod as a woman loudly coughs and I realise she's been behind us, eavesdropping the whole time.