Who Do You Love - Dean Ambrose

Hard luck woman

To say that my plan had hit a snag was pretty much the understatement of the century. It had hit, crashed, rolled a couple times and burst into a great big ball of flames.

Then exploded.

The annoying thing was that up until that point – the whole crashing, rolling, inferno point – it had actually been going pretty well. I'd bought my tickets, caught my first flight, touched down in Orlando and merrily made my way across the terminal towards the gate for Baton Rouge. I think I might have even skipped I was so excited.

I was fucking doing it.

Until I wasn't.

"Storm front."

"Huh?"

The woman at the desk rolled her eyes at me wearily, presumably because having to repeat herself meant also having to stop jawing on her gum.

"Storm front, all flights cancelled."

The happy little plane ticket wilted in my fist and my stomach churned anxiously.

Oh god, oh god.

Clearing my throat and fixing a wobbly smile in place, I tried to keep the panic from rising.

"O-kay, so, when will flights start up again?"

The woman threw a look at me and although she didn't say do I look like a freakin' meteorologist to youher eyes spelt out the words distinctly and blushing mildly I hurried to explain.

"I mean, not that I'm expecting you to know exactly – I get that you couldn't – but how long do these storm fronts usually take to pass? Are we talking hours or days? Because the thing is, I kinda need to get to Baton Rouge by tomorrow night and if there aren't any flights in the next few hours I don't know how I'm supposed to – ,"

"Rental car,"

I blinked at her, feeling stupid.

"Oh, right – um – and where would I find one of those?"

"Rental car desk."

"Uh huh, uh huh," I nodded vigorously, "And where – ,"

"Out the main doors, across the parking lot and round the corner."

"Got it, thank you."

Sensing that I was by no means her favourite customer of the day – although I'd have paid good money to see anyone that was – I turned on my heels in an attempt to look poised and promptly tripped over my own wheeled suitcase which I had abandoned directly behind my legs in an attempt to ward off would-be bag-snatchers.

Don't judge me okay? I'm from a small town.

The woman smirked widely and I could already tell that the sight of me stumbling across the gleaming floor tiles had become the highlight of her troublesome day. Refusing to make eye contact, I snatched up my suitcase and towed it behind me straight out of the doors.

Outside the clouds were gathering moodily in a fantastic palette of dark grey and smoky blue. As a child I had loved being tucked up on the window seat, snug and warm in our cosy little house and watching as the lightning had rolled across the wheat fields and the rain had hammered down hard against the pane. Being out in it however – not to mention whilst towing an unruly suitcase across a parking lot that was easily half a mile long – was a whole different story and as the heavens abruptly opened I broke into a run.