| adira carlevaro's pov |
'what do you mean our flight has been delayed?'
'i'm sorry for the inconvenience but yes it has been delayed by three hours.'
'and what's the reason behind such a long delay?'
'sorry we cannot say.'
'this is bullshit, utter bullshit.' i say as we walk away from the information desk.
'whoever is causing a plane to be so late better be something or someone pretty damn special.' i mutter to myself.
'adira do you not realise the main problem here? we're going to miss mum and ignacio's wedding. how is mum going to feel when her own two children aren't there?' says antonio.
'we'll have enough time don't you worry anto. besides, a flight to barcelona from liverpool isn't that long anyway.' i say with a slight smile trying to be positive.
'i guess you're right. why does mum have to have a thing for foreigh men? first dad who's half italian and now ignacio, who's spanish.'
'love is a strange thing i'm afraid. you can't help who you fall in love with.'
'you're twenty three, have you ever been in love?' asks my sixteen year old brother.
have i ever been in love? i've had boyfriends and i've had longish relationships but i wouldn't say i was in love with any of them.
'no, but let's be honest. who knows what love actually?'
/ /
'flight 917F1J9 to barcelona is now boarding.'
'finally.' antonio and i say in sync. we get up from our seats with our hand luggage and get our tickets and passports ready. we stand in the queue behind around twenty people until it's finally our turn.
'hi.' i say handing her our tickets. she scans our tickets and it beeps up on the computer.
'is something wrong?' i ask concerned.
'well it seems your tickets were changed to a different flight. a flight to madrid at the same time as the barcelona flight.'
'what? that can't be possible! our tickets say barcelona how they can be possibly be changed to madrid when we never did anything?'
'i'm sorry but it's what the computer says.'
'well go and tell your computer to fu-'
'language antonio. come on, our mother's getting married tonight can't you just let us on the plane? madrid is like two hours out of our way! isn't there anything else you can do?'
'i'm sorry i'm legally obliged to let you on that plane. but what can i do for causing you both a problem. i'll organise a driver for you both that will take you as quickly as possible to barcelona and we'll give you first class tickets and give you complimentary food and drinks. i'm extremely sorry for the fuss this has caused.'
'it's only a two-' says antonio but i elbow him.
'we'll take it.' i say with a smile.
'very well. i'll contact my colleagues for you so you can have the very best flight. i'm so very sorry once again.'
'as long as nothing else happens, i think all the damage has been done.' i say politely.
'have a good day now and a great flight!' she says before we leave.
'first delayed now we have to go to madrid. today is just getting better and better.' i say sighing as we walk down to where the boarding for the madrid flight is.
'what on earth is that?' i say looking at a group of grown men wearing the same outfits all chatting amongst themselves.
'they're talking in spanish as well.'
'adira, that's real madrid!' says antoine in shock.
'real what?'
'real madrid! you know the football team. with cristiano ronaldo and gareth bale and all that! they must be coming back from their game against liverpool last night.' says antonio excitedly.
'i absolutely love football and football players.' i say sarcastically.
'and why are we are the only people that seem to be on the plane with them?' i ask noticing we're the only ones in the queue other than the football team.
'oh no we're not there's some other people in front of them.' i say in relief.
after giving in our tickets and finding out that antonio's and i seats aren't anywhere near each other. i'm hoping i'm sat by myself or i will lose it if i'm sat next to some shitty football player.
i walk down the plane's aisle looking for my seat. and turns around i'm sat next to a man, but thankfully he's not a football player. i tried to open the cabinet but i struggle until the man next to me stands up and helps me.
'here, let me.' he says with a strong spanish accent. he takes my bag out of my hands and carefully places it next to him.
'do you need anything from your bag before i shut it?' he asks politely.
'no thank you. but thank you for helping me.' i reply in spanish.
'you speak spanish?' he asks sitting back by the window.
'yes but not fluently yet.' i reply with a small smile.
'your spanish is definitely better than my english.' he says laughing.
'it just takes practice, that's what it takes to learn a language. well, and also living in the country also helps a lot.' i say shrugging.
'so what's your name if you don't mind me asking?' he asks.
'adira, you?'
'that's a very beautiful and unique name! mine's sergio.'
'thank you it's hebrew for strong. and yours is very spanish.'
'can i just say something sergio? i'm so glad i'm sat next to you and not one of those football players.' i say putting on my seatbelt.
'i absolutely can't stand the idea of football. and footballers they frustrate me so much. they are literally paid to kick a ball around and get injured. and then there's poverty in the world and they are getting millions and millions a year for kicking a ball! just a few weeks salary from what's his name ronaldo or messi could do a lot of good!' i say and sergio just looks at me without saying anything.
'i'm sorry for that mini rant sergio. i just hate football.'
