high heels, even higher standards

one

California: The Land of Dreams. What place could be better for me right now? The only thing that runs through my mind is the dream of being okay again, I thought to myself.

"Gilligan!" the chauffeur yelled my name in search for me. I lugged my suitcase behind me and maneuvered my way through the airport traffic to the badly written sign with a barely decipherable "Gilligan Farmer" on it.

I looked - surprisingly down - at the, what had to be, 4' 11" Chinese man in a black suit that was holding a black hat down at his side and holding the sign up high like he couldn't have been more proud of it and it's scribbled words. "It's just Gill," I told him and forced a smile.

"Ah, Ms. Gill! I am so happy to meet you! Let me take your bag! Come! This way! Follow me!" he yelled. He literally yelled everything with such enthusiasm. I followed him anyway. His little body had a much easier time getting through everyone than my bigger body could. The airport back in Wyoming barely had anyone in it. There were a few bag check workers and some travelers in flannels and jeans all of which were leaving Wyoming rather than arriving there. I don't blame them; Wyoming was pretty boring most of the time. But California already seemed exciting and I could even feel a new page starting to turn.

The airport was filled with sophisticated men and women in business suits and the obvious tourists in their white sneakers, Hawiian shirts and their faces stuck in their maps. Thankfully, I own none of those items. I just packed up my closet and left, didn't bother buying any tourist gear.

It'd taken fifteen minutes, but the chauffeur finaly got us through the crowd and outside to the car. It was a slick, black Cadillac with tinted windows. He opened my door up for me and gestured me inside.

I sat down inside and he shut the door. I could hear him open the trunk to put my suitcase in. The inside of the car was super nice. My great aunt did good. I assumed I'd be riding in some dirty, beat up taxi from 1987, but this was completely different. Black, high quality leather and even heated backseats adorned this Cadi. The chauffeur got into the driver's seat. "Hello, Ms. Gill! I am John! Where may I take you today!" His smile radiated so much happiness. He was still yelling, too, even though we weren't in the loud airport anymore. I guess he's just a loud talker. He was looking at me through his mirror. I reached into my pocket to get my phone out and see the address my great aunt texted me. "Um," I said while searching through my messages on my prehistoric phone with an extra special slide keyboard, "it says her address is 576 Long Lane, John." It felt weird calling him John, but I wasn't about to call him chauffeur.

He looked back at me in shock. "Long Lane! That is for the superstars! I am so sorry I did not know I was in the presence of royalty!" He looked like he was about to cry because he was so sorry. I felt bad for him. "No, John. I'm not even close to being a star or even slightly popular. My presence is nothing special," I told him hastly. But, apparently, my great aunt must be something fancy, I told myself.

John turned back around. "Okay, Ms. Gill. Long Lane, here we come," he said. He wasn't yelling anymore. That's weird. With that, he whipped the car out into the traffic and sped down the road and to "where the superstars live".

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

It felt so Fresh Prince of Bel-Air getting out of the taxi, actually more of a small limo, and walking up the stairs to my great aunt Caroline's house. I turned around to John, who insisted that he be the one to struggle and bring my stuffed suitcase to the door. I felt sad for him right then. I felt even worse when he stopped yelling and started talking at a normal volume. It was like I scolded him. I mean, I don't think I did.

He finally reached the door and I immediately shoved twenty bucks into his hand. "Seriously, John, I could've gotten it," I told him. He gave me a weird, crazed look. "Why, Ms. Gill, I can not take your money. Just being near you is enough payment," he acted like it was absurd that I'd even think to pay him for navigating me through the airport and to my aunt's house.

"John, I have no idea why you think I'm famous or something," I laughed. His face had the same stunned and crazed look on it. "You do not know who your great aunt is! Do you!" His yelling suprised me. Apparently he was fine now. Now he was the one laughing and I just stood there on the front steps of my great aunt's house being laughed at by John.

I shook my head as if to erase the last ten seconds. When I stopped, I realized I should probably knock if I ever wanted to get in. Knock knock knock. I could hear shuffling. "I'll be right there!" a woman's voice yelled from inside. I looked at John who's smile had grown to the size of a watermelon. I looked at him like, What?

And then the door swung open and I understood why he was smiling like that.

"Ah! Gilligan! I haven't seen you since you were itty bitty!" the woman's voice shrieked.