Jungle Fever

Arriving In Italy

Arriving In Italy

I arrived at John F. Kennedy Airport in such an atrocious mood that Scott stayed off the phone in attempt to calm me. I couldn’t believe with all that happened yesterday I was at the airport with three suitcases, passport in hand, at 6 am. I felt like crap and from the stares I was getting I’m sure I looked like it too and worst of all I was going to have to spend the day with the devil himself, Mace Maxwell. 

I sat in the seating area of the gate that Scott led me to before he ditched me probably to make another phone call. Mace arrived, shortly after; fortunately he didn’t acknowledge me, because I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone this morning, especially since I was awoken early because Talon’s mom checked him into the hospital. And then if that wasn’t enough mom started on this trip about how I wasn’t normal first I thought I was getting in trouble but then she assured me that some changes would happen to my body. Thanks Ma but I think you’re a little late. 

The plane was delayed a whole two hours. Half-way through the wait Mace spotted me and hasn’t stopped staring since. I know I forgot (chose not to) do my hair this morning but I promise you it seriously doesn’t look that bad. After a whole hour of staring Mace got up and started in my direction but before he could respond the announcer informed all first class (that’s us) passengers that it was time to board. Saved by the bell. Our seats were about as far away from each other as possible.

I must have fallen asleep once we were in the air. But what must have been an hour (but felt like ten minutes) later I awoke to someone stroking my recently dyed jet black hair. I slow came to my scenes and realized the person stroking my hair to a soothing rhythm was none other than Mace Maxwell. As soon as he realized I was awake he pulled his hand back and pretended to flip through a Maxim. 

“Why are you sitting here I thought you were in the front,” I asked choosing to ignore the fact that he was petting me. 

“I was but the guy next to you was too comfortable with you, a stranger, leaning on him,” he proclaimed without even looking up from the magazine. 

“And how’d you get him to move,” I said wondering why he even cared.  

“Easy I told him you were my girlfriend and I was gonna propose on this trip,” he answered still not looking up 

“Don’t think Marilyn would approve. And why were you petting me,” I said aiming to throw him off. 

“She could care less so what I talk to girls as long as I don’t interrupt her ‘me time’. And on the petting I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he still didn’t look up it was beginning to aggravate me. 

I ended up falling asleep again not too long after our little conversation and the next time I woke up the seat next to me was empty and passengers were exiting the plane. Asshole like he couldn’t have just woke me up. 

Stepping off the plane and into the walkway I had an OMG moment. I am actually in Florence, Italy you know like the real thing. I was about to break out in dance bit then I realized I wasn’t exactly sure how to explain an OMG moment when the only Italian I spoke was Ciao. French I could speak but Italian was a complete no-no for me.  

After going through the whole chaos of Amerigo Vespucci Airport, I finally found baggage claim now just to get to my bags. One purple, one blue, and one red all over fifteen pounds this might take a while. Once I had my baggage settled I realized that I couldn’t find anyone no Scott no Mace. And since my cell phone bill would put my mom in an early grave I sat in silence waiting for a familiar face. But not too long after I got a text from Talon. It read: Hey Ma just leme c mi fone nd I kno ur outa country bt thought I’d tell u thnks nd I luv u.